I have been swamped with work as we get close to the end of the year. Everyone, it seems, has realized that it’s December and that they’d better unload their charitable contributions by the 31st in order to get the tax break. So I’m getting a lot of “Can you write up a two-to-three pager for the Findiculous Fantabulous Foundation? Their Board meets December 15th, and they need to give away ten hundred kajillion dollars,” and the like – and let’s just say it: that’s my job. But I already had a spiraling-out-of-control “to do” list, and I’d arranged to jury-rig together a smorgasbord of personal days, half-holidays, and vacation time in order to get December 22 through January 2nd off. So I am a bit concerned about how it all will get done, and since I am from New England, I have that pesky Puritan work ethic thing that magnifies my everyday craziness.
Hence, this conversation:
Mama Blah: …and then I got an e-mail from [name redacted], who talked to this guy at the Boop-Boop-She-Doop Foundation, and he says they’d welcome an application from us, so I e-mailed back and said did you get the impression that this could wait until January or is it something we need to do now, and [boss of us all] e-mailed me and said we should strike while the iron is hot, so now I have to do that too, and I already had Project X, Project Y and Project Z to work on, so I’m a little kind of like, just kill me now.
Sweet Dub [outraged on my behalf and simultaneously sick of listening to me high-speed whine]: Well, that’s ridiculous. Why are you doing Project Y? It seems like someone else could do Project Y.
Mama Blah: Yeah, but I want to do Project Y.
Sweet Dub: [stabs self with safety scissors so he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore]