The Uncoordinated Juggler

The game of the week seems to be schdeule juggling; the prize being some semblance of sanity for those who greatly excel at it. I do not fit into this category. I am more of the freak out and stress out ilk. I am the obnoxious person frantically typing at super speeds, sending out 50,000 emails per second to accomplish one measly thing. While this is indeed high comedy to watch the flailing of appendages and flurry of pointless but hectic movement masquerading as proactivity, I do not reccomend this approach as it wreaks havoc on the digestive system.

I have the Wonder Twins in town, whom I must make time for, a vigil at the Times Square recruiting station tomorrow since the death toll just reached another 2000, and costumes and banners to build for 10 women or more for Code Pink's contingent in the West Village Halloween Parade. Part of this building includes making two gigantic sets of five foot tall and 3 feet wide pink wings - by hand, from scratch. All this needs to be accomplished by this weekend, because Doc Harley really wants me to come to the Catskills with him; its so important to him that he agreed to let us use his basement space to construct everything as long as I went away with him this weekend. Though of course if the waether doesn't clear up we may not end up going. An old farmhouse in a monsoon is not so romantic.

The problem is coordinating everyone's schedules.

Actually, the problem is that my lazy ass can't wake up in the mornings and we overslept in such dramatic fashion this morning that I am desperate to find a niche where I can catch up on some of the lost hours at the sdj. Niches of time are not easy to come by, except when you don't need them or can't use them.

One day I will develop the ability to wake up to an alarm. I'm dreaming big here.