Yesterday, I was *supposed* to take a call with a nationally-known company, to discuss some BLEND stuff. I don’t just “take calls” everyday – this was kind of a BIG deal for me. I’m also an anal over-achiever and scribbled down the call time in SEVERAL different locations, most importantly, my dry-erase board on the fridge.
Mr. Board is the glue that holds this chaos together.
Mr. Board said the call was for 2pm. I take Mr. Board for his word. He doesn’t lie.
1:38pm: Take shower – wash gym sweat off. Throw on glasses, fuzzy socks and bathrobe.
1:45pm: Get children pottied and into their respective beds.
1:52pm: Henry yells that he has to go poop. Swoop in, take him to poop. No poop. Straight back to bed.
1:55pm: Make 2nd cup of coffee in favorite mug. Set out clipboard with fresh sheet of paper and favorite pen. Charged cellphone is on lap.
1:59pm: Think about how excited I am for BLEND. Wonder if we could get Ryan Reynolds to make an appearance. You read my blog, right, Ryan?
2:00pm: GO TIME!
2:03pm: 3 minutes late. “Of COURSE, they’ll call a little after 2. No one is as anal as you. They’re playing it cool.”
2:16pm: 16 minutes late. “This IS pushing it a bit. But like my mom warned me about Middle School dances – you don’t EVER want to be the first one to the party.”
2:17pm: Hunger strikes. But what if they call? Nasty food sounds into the receiver? No. A Reese Egg will have to do. Twist my arm.
2:20pm: Now have chocolate peanut butter breath. Best breath to have, really.
2:30pm: 30 whole minutes late. “I simply MUST have written down the time wrong!” Go look at other “lists” I have around the house. All say 2:00pm. Hmm….
2:34pm: Go back for third cup of coffee. Hawaiian Hazelnut. Hands down favorite. Think about where the expression “hands down” comes from. MUST Google it immediately.
2:50pm: Sidetracked. Always. Sit down to Google “hands down”, only to waste time reading Facebook and watching this video. 2, er, 3 times.
2:54pm: Phone rings. Oh yeah…that call! Pause Sophia Grace, mid-Maroon 5 interview. It’s my Mamaw T. Asking me to get her mail. “Later, Mamaw, I’ve got important calls to take.”
3:00pm: Seriously a little angry. Go back through emails to see if I am missing something. Can’t find original email. “You’re SO organized, huh, Lindsay?”
3:12pm: BELLY GROWLING!! Reese Egg, a distant memory. Should make food. Decide to steam a spaghetti squash. ??
3:16pm: Mid-steam, consume the following: handful of baby carrots, graham cracker, 3 M & M’s I find in junk drawer. Also, find last bag of Lush Nuts sample that the company sent me (BLEND Swag Bag!!). This flavor was good. The coffee flavor was better.
3:20pm: “I was Googling something. What was it?” Oh yeah – hands-down.
The term dates back to the mid-19th century and the genteel world of British horse racing. Back then, a jockey who found himself way ahead as he approached the finish line would relax his grip on the reins and drop his hands. Not as confrontational as a spiked football, but still a bit of gestural in-your-face-ness. By the late 19th century, the idiom had been extended to non-racing contexts, and it remains in frequent use today.
3:29pm: 1 hour and 29 minutes late. “RIDICULOUS! People just really like wasting my time. Ryan Reynolds wouldn’t waste my time.”
3:31pm: Must quell anger. Food= comfort. Combine spaghetti squash with spinach, hummus and Chobani to create a bowl of something I can only describe as “double rainbow”. SO good.
3:42pm: Belly full. Happier. Sit down at computer and pick through ALL my emails.
3:44pm: Find IT. THE email. Read it. Audible GASP! 2pm MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME! Stupid, stupid girl. Mr. Board lied because Mrs. Wright was a dummy.
3:56pm: Henry yells from room that he needs to poop. Swoop in there, take him to potty. Hear Clara, babbling in her crib. CRAP.
3:59pm: Mind races for ways to either lull them back to sleep or make them stay quiet. Candy? Definitely. The Princess Bride? A MUST!
4:06pm: Company calls. 6 minutes “late”. Of course. They played it cool.
Me? Not so much.
QUESTION: Are you anally organized? More laid back? Have any “I was an idiot” stories to share?