In 28 hours (not that I'm counting) I'll be standing at a reception desk at ABC, meeting my co-author, publicist, publicist's assistant, with my husband and make up artist along for support (and touch ups), ready to plunge into the unknown. By then my outfit details will be ironed out. I'll know for sure whether my newly stretched out biker boots will fit. I'm relatively certain I'll be down on sleep, hyped on sudafed, my stomach will be churning, and I'll be talking way too fast.
This is a big deal. Not quite up to my wedding (stressful and fun with a happy ending) or childbirth (stressful and painful with 2 more happy endings), but man, I never thought this would be happening for FLOW. I believed it should be, but I think most authors, along with creative people in all fields feel their projects deserve accolades, recognition, a forum for people to know about it. Hyping FLOW has just about been my full time job since it was published last November. Every mention, every shout out has been appreciated and chronicled. But this?
Instead of reveling, panicking, planning, enjoying this last day of buildup though, I've got to figure out why my router went dead last night. At the moment, no wireless network at my house. No printing from laptops, no google in the bathroom, no music to drown out everyone else. I got up from my desk and all was fine, came back 10 minutes later only to find what appears to be a dead apple time capsule. No one thought to design it with an on/off switch or even a telling light to see if it's working. I spent almost 2 hours last night, under my dusty desk, unplugging wires, switching connections, praying one small change would miraculously help.
Not a chance in hell.
During that I then spent well over an hour on the phone with Time Warner, at least 75% of that on hold, or pushing buttons. Trust me, after that, I never never NEVER want to deal with automated troubeshooting anymore. And why, might I ask, if I give all my info to someone, do I have to repeat the entire sequence to someone else? By the time the second representative asked how many computers I had in my house, I refused to answer anything more until she helped me solve the question, so enraged I could barely keep from screaming.
Sorry for the rant folks. My generally mellow Sunday night was fraught with frustration. So, today, I've got to try and solve this wireless thing.
I also have to help Jack's class create art for an auction class project. Today is classroom work time—when the kids are finished I have to scan everything and then create a set of cards featuring their work. Design, print, produce. By Friday. Along with pick up my boots, my pants, hairspray.
My business taxes are due next week. I've got to get all my paperwork together by Wednesday so I don't have to file for an extension. Wednesday's also the first general PTA meeting I'm running, after last week's surprising presidential coup. I have to prepare something for that. Thursday? Jack's performance in an afterschool program run by Inside Broadway. Friday is Iz's middle school dance. I'm the chair person and am also in charge of decorations. And while that's happening? My parents are arriving from Florida for the weekend. 3 nights. All that's on top of my usual juggle.
My head is spinning, scrambling, going through each day trying to fit in yoga classes, food for dinner, playdates. I realized last night, I don't know that I've eaten actual dinner since sometime late last week.
Maybe this current craziness is good. It's certainly keeping my national television debut in perspective. There's so going on, it's a blip in the crazy week. A serious, huge, amazing, daunting, thrilling blip but it'll be over and I'll be standing in an auditorium asking people to donate money to the PTA. Sitting in an audience watching Jack sing showtunes. Hosting my entire family for dinner and having my apartment torn apart all weekend.
Part of me wants to run away. Hide in a hotel room. Have a day, a few hours, even 10 minutes to appreciate where I am and what's happening. To be grateful that my book is hitting the big time. To be proud of myself. To revel.
But no. I have to go help type a middle school English paper so it gets turned in on time. Clean the apartment, yet again, so the makeup artist has somewhere to sit tomorrow. Move my car so I don't get a ticket.
Maybe I'll have time to be excited later.