I've had the same sharpie marker on my desk for 7 years.
It's not terribly useful for my particular line of business but I keep it around for two particular purposes. I use it to mark my file folders for projects that are finished and have been consigned to my forgetting-drawer and I use it to strike the days from my wall calendar.
Once upon a time I'd take the final moments of my Friday afternoon to strike through the entire weekend in the spirit of efficiency--FridaySaturdaySunday. One less thing to take care of on Monday morning when, naturally I'd be back in the office because of-course-I'll-still-be-here-on-Monday-what-could-possibly-go-wrong-in-two-days-time?
Do I even need to say that I've changed my ways? Does anyone who reads here take a single day/hour/minute/second for granted anymore?
My new world-view has imbued my sharpie with magical powers. It is now the destroyer of time and instrument of doom.
We're rounding third on year five and proceeding to home plate. For those of you with half a set of twins, you'll be familiar with the annual, double-penetration mind-fuck of the weeks leading up to your child's birthday.
I'm really not one to compare scars but, folks, their birthday (and its concomitant stew of joy, love, logistics, sadness, and regret) still makes me feel like I'm turning inside-out and transforming into a wild beast. By the time C blows out the 7 candles on her cake (1 for R and 1 for good luck) I'll be ready to howl at the moon.
We took another road-trip to Kentucky to visit friends and family this year. It wasn't the 2-week-long funeral/wedding extravaganza of 2011 but the trip wasn't completely devoid of drama.
On the first leg of our trip we saw an overturned minivan and an abandoned car that burst into flames from the extreme heat. As that insane, inland hurricane passed through West Virginia, we hurried off the elevated highway to take shelter in a Wendy's. Disasters small and large everywhere but we managed to emerge unscathed.
The night before our return trip, C and I went to bed early while T stayed up to talk with his mom. I had a couple of books but C didn't want to read. She wanted to talk about her birthday and how it was only 6 weeks away and all of the things she'd do once she turned 5 like chew gum and start kindergarten and all of the birthday party supplies that we could get once we got home from Kentucky.
Meanwhile, inside a nondescript, beige cubicle, deep in the bowels of a government office building in Philadelphia, an evil sharpie marker twitched to life.
I should probably be encouraged that, in spite of everything, C still trusts that the sun will rise and that the next few weeks will come off without a hitch but I have to admit that I slept very poorly that night. I wasn't really crying but it was like my head was so filled with worry that it started to leak. The tears caught in my hair as I stared at the ceiling and sent a silent warning to the fates, "Leave her alone. She's just a kid. She doesn't remember."
I'm just going to end this one by noting that my trusty macbook pro died at the end of May, precluding my participation in the 'right where i am' commenting bonanza. I haven't even been able to maintain my normal schedule of spotty posting and delayed commenting and, rather than try to make up for lost time, I've decided to just cut bait. Not that you're all sitting around waiting for me to eject nuggets of wisdom via blogger, but, I didn't tumble down the basement stairs to my untimely demise and I think I'm back to normal operations.
Now...on to August...