One of those days…
It was going to be a busy morning/early afternoon. Mr. D was coming over at 3:00, and I wanted to get a workout in, finish some work, straighten up the place, wash my hair, etc.
My new client gave me a batch of work last week. I like these people, but they are kind of unusual. Their jobs are brief (they send a bunch at a time), but their methods of operation are more time-consuming than the actual proofreading! First, they want you to print out all the jobs and mark them up the old-fashioned way. Next, you go into their electronic files and make all the corrections, check the formatting, etc. They have a complex, two-sided Work Order form that you have to print out and fill out for each individual job (for example, this latest batch had 10 jobs). And finally, you have to take the hard copies to the P.O. and send them back Priority Mail.
I was prepared to send everything off tomorrow. But my contact wrote to me this morning and was hoping to get them earlier. Oh, damn.
So, hustle hustle hustle. I left for the gym, and about halfway there, got stuck in gridlock in the street. I don’t know if there was an accident or road construction, but the cars were not moving. People were doing U-turns and going back the other way. I thought I’d tough it out, but when I’d moved one block in 15 minutes, I thought, “Screw this,” and turned around. Drove back home and went to the laundry room in my apartment building, where there’s a treadmill, a few weights and some other equipment. I worked out for nearly two hours and then raced back up to my apartment.
Shower, wash hair, dress, blow out my hair, clean the bathroom. Sat down to double-check all the jobs, type out my invoice, and then fill out 10 work order forms. At 2:00, I was ready to dash back out to the Post Office, which I did post-haste.
Got home at 2:20, put on some makeup, and ran around the apartment straightening up, making the bed, refilling the water pitcher, and all the other odds and ends. At 2:50, I was done, completely ready. WHEW.
Aaaaaand then Mr. D called to postpone.
It was for a very good reason; there was an emergency with his elderly neighbor, whom he’s been sorta looking out for. I hope he will be all right.
He suggested coming over tomorrow. I would like that. Because on Wednesday, he is leaving for a vacation, and I won’t see him next week. So if I don’t see him tomorrow, then it will be a whole month. And that would suck.
So please hold a good thought that he makes it. Meanwhile, tonight’s play report has been postponed, hopefully not for more than 24 hours.
Bottoms, don’t you hate it when you’re all dressed up/made up/geared up to play, and then it doesn’t happen? All that pent-up energy! I swear, it’s as bad as orgasm denial. (Not that I’ve ever experienced that. Because if any man told me I’m not allowed to orgasm, I’d tell him to go fornicate himself.)