Yesterday I was still busy being me and my boss, and we have this poor guy we hired to fill in for The Other Copy Editor, who picked this week to quit, and I have said almost no words to the poor new guy. All I've really said to him are "Hi" and "Are you ready for me to give you another thing to copyedit?" He must think I am a fuckin' B.
(The Other Copy Editor gave, like, a three-month notice, and of course on her last day it occurred to me that a normal girl would have gone out and gotten her a card for everyone to sign. Fortunately for me, there was a Valentine's Day card on the Free, Take It table at work, and I think The Other Copy Editor would have expected nothing less from me.)
The point is, I was toiling away when an email came to the whole company. It was from a woman who is on my floor and part of the super-private open floor plan, only she's way off in the corner. "I have found a baby bird," the email read. "If anyone knows what I should do next, please contact me."
You know in Twilight, where Edward just blurs across a huge amount of space because he can move so fast, and suddenly he's by dynamic Bella's side? I can certainly see why you'd rush over there. Anyway, that was me getting over to the baby bird.
BAYYYYBEEE BIRD!
She already had him in a Dean & Deluca box with those kinky strips of paper in it. We'd gotten two big boxes from a client, and I certainly did not partake of the truffle-oil popcorn or chocolate chipotle cookes at all yesterday. No, sir. But we'd vultured the dregs of those boxes already and boom! Now they served as a perfect bayyyyybeeee bird nest.
peeeep peeep peeep peeep! bayyyybe bird not WISH to be in blawg. peep!
I named him, in my mind, Uriah Cheep, because man, did he cheep. We could see where his nest was, but even though we grabbed a metal ladder during a huge thunderstorm because we're smart, we still couldn't get up there to put him back. I called my friend Dot, the one who's Ellie May Clampett and forever rescuing things, and she said to get canned cat food and feed him--or, even better, take him to a rescue place.
Now, see, here's the part where I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyone else gathered around for a minute, said, awwww, and went back to work. Are you SERIOUS? I worried and fretted and panicked and offered to go out in the storm for the cat food and eventually found the rescue place. The woman who found Uriah Cheep took his three-feathered self over there. So, whew. I mean, LOOK AT HIS HEAD TUFTS! AND HIS LIPSES! How can you go back to work?
Some people suggested I take him home myself. Yeah. wat you breeng eyeriss? thank, mom! {crunch}
As soon as that drama subsided, I was just wrapping everything up and getting ready to see Ned. At a few minutes to 5:00, my old boss in LA emailed me. "We have an emergency. The client is PISSED. Can you hlep?"
I said I could, because greedy, and I called Ned to say I'd be late. I screamed home (now that I'm about to move, I just learned a new way to get home from work in 4 minutes rather than 8) and got right on the computer, I figured it'd take me till around 7:00, then I could eat and see Ned.
At 10:00, I was still in here working. I hadn't eaten, or peed, or oh my GOD I don't think I fed the animals! I really don't think I did! Oh, I am awful. I really SHOULD have brought Iris that bird. Well, they ate this morning and everyone's alive. Good mom-ing.
The LA office was not bugging me at ALL last night, with the "Are you done yet?" emails that then distracted me and I'd have to spend five minutes finding my place again. But finally, at 10:00, I called my old boss. "I know it's only 7:00 there, but I haven't eaten or gotten up from this chair or even peed all night. And now it's my bedtime here in NC. This is the most I can do. You guys have to do the last 31 pages." I mean seriously, I was spent.
My old boss was understanding; that job was a nightmare. The person who created it needs to be punched hard.
So I did not see Ned, but in a month I will be seeing Ned constantly, so. And hey. $$$!
I will go now, and shower and so on, so I can have another relaxing day. I cannot tell you how loglike my sleep was last night. I got into bed with Talu, spooned her, and we woke up in the same position. She was probably weak from hunger. My poor neglected pets. Somebody call Animal Services.
Oh, and thanks for the moving tips. I read them, nodded my head, then 72 hours before I have to move I will throw everything into one big panicked box.
Love, June
