Maybe it's the weather here in SoCal (hot, then cold, then warmish, then cold, then hot). Maybe it's my allergies which are in full-bore overdrive these days. Maybe it's the upcoming primaries which are giving me (here ya go, Julie) shpilkes like you wouldn't believe. Maybe it's the fact that this is the second to the last Monday I'll be working here at the studio. I don't know.
I'm on edge. I've got butterflies. Pins and needles. Tenterhooks, if you will.
I came to work this morning feeling that way, too. Coming to work is getting harder and harder. Going home, easier and easier. Packing, clearing, tossing, dispersing. Shampoo, rinse, repeat. I checked my personal e-mail within moments of arriving at my desk -- which I'd like to say is a newly adopted trend, but, alas, that would be a lie. My friend Sue sent a mass e-mail, apologizing for sending a mass e-mail, but for some reason, she really knew we all needed this link. It was called "Bubblewrap." I clicked. It opened. Chalk it up to my current disorientation. Chalk it up to perversity. But whatever the reason, I quickly have become obsessed. Something bugs me, I pop open the window and go to work. It really does help relieve the tension. It was gifted to me, I'm gifting it to you.
The other thing I wanted to share was this really beautifully written essay by Nora Ephron (redundant, I know, because how else does she write) about exactly who will be deciding this primary, in spite of all outward appearances. I share her frustrations on all levels that we live in a world that seems stuck in an antediluvian time warp.
I have to get to work today. Much to do, and only two weeks left.