Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wake up, roll over, and realize you need to be somewhere - across town - in approximately 13 minutes? I do.
Today at work (I'm a literary publicist), we were launching our first-ever satellite radio tour. Pretty neat huh! What basically happens is: I line up a slew of radio interviews for Mr. or Ms. Author, and we knock them all out in a given time block. It's a 3-way call, and I control all the dialing from my end: the author hangs out on the line, while I call each station. This morning, we had 20 shows to hit, coast to coast. The time, 7am - 11am. Which means I had to arrive at work at 6:30.
That was the plan, anyway. It didn't help that I WOKE UP at 6:17.
Picture this:
Roll over sleepily, silently congratulating myself, "it's so nice that even when I set an alarm, my body clock just wakes me right up - even before it goes off!"
Turn head to evaluate clock, expecting to see 5:20. Disturbingly, see 6:17.
"OH MY GOD!!"
I leap out of bed like it's toxic (in this case it was), run to bathroom and throw on lights. Do not wash face, just grab toothbrush. Apply paste, brush in 4 seconds, and spit toothbrushing water on floor of my bathroom. Not in sink -- where, I think you'll all agree, toothbrushing water belongs. Why? I have no idea. Except possibly that it was more dramatic.
Run to room. Virtually panting as I toss off pajamas in front of closet. Pick up clothing that literally happens to be on the floor right in front of me. Quickly (instantaneously!) appreciate the fact that I'm the type who leaves hardly-worn laundry everywhere for just these types of mad-dash situations. Am genius?
R. has woken up, far earlier than he needs to, due to a) sympathy and b) confusion. Is groggily walking around house. I skid into kitchen, toss apple into purse, and head out door - resolving to apply make-up in car. (Last thing I want to do at work is arrive late AND horrifying-looking).
Roll out of Hyde Park, tune in NPR, decide the soothing voices of "Morning Edition" are WAY too distracting, and literally focus on breathing. Is 6:23. Work - at a legal speed - is 15 minutes away. Must halve that.
In an incredible blessing from the universe, there is zero traffic (it's also insanely early - but I prefer Divine Intervention's guiding force). There are also cops everywhere, so I watch it. Am holding powder compact with mirror, waiting for an opportune moment to apply....something. Anything. It really doesn't matter. Will look like hot mess and have accepted it, but cover-up under eyes = damage control?
Screech into parking lot. It's 6:35. Take exactly one minute to slap some random cosmetic onto my face - which, I've waited 'til now to put on. (Am responsible!) Hair back in ponytail, game face on, stride into office: where my trusty coworkers already have things set up for me.
At 6:52, we start the show. Author is charming, tour goes off without a hitch, high-fives all around when it's done.
I walk back to my desk. Calmly greet my coworkers. Turn on computer screen, and for the first time that morning - exhale.
1 comment:
You spit toothpaste on the floor, I spat Evian water (OK, Crystal Geyser) upon reading every word of this post.
Perhaps I should call your staff to set up interstate phone call with you so I can finally hear about Falling-off-Cliffgate '08!
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