fattypatties

It's 9 am and my apartment is already hot. I hate heat. It is not hot outside. But I don't think my apartment has cooled down since Monday when it was hot outside. I'm writing a letter to the committee.

Pardon the pun, but I'm burned out. I haven't visited Gab Cafe in about a week because I just can't handle the intensity there, or at times, the lack of it. We've been trying to catch up on radio production since our July 4th episode, which was a nice piece of politics, maybe a too intense piece of radio and certainly a too intense production. It became a full-time job with overtime and it got us behind on productioin of future shows. I'm behind schedule on my regular job as well. I feel like the last-place runner watching the pack getting further and further ahead and not being able to muster the energy it would take to catch up. Ironically, the best thing to do would probably be to simply stop. Declare myself out of the race. Because I swear they are moving the finish line further away from me more rapidly than I can get to it.

Next week I get to stop for awhile. I love Canadian respect for "holidays." I thought for sure that since I was behind in my work that I would be told, "well, you are going to have to do some work next week." But it was taken in stride. I'm still testing the waters a bit -- reminding the others on the team that I won't be available next week -- but the attitude is always, "Well, of course you need a break -- your holidays are important."

So Sunday is my 45th birthday. My mom and my brother are arriving Saturday and from the point of their arrival to the point of their departure, I plan to play with only a couple of exceptions. Let's hope that's enough to put me back in the race.