This is the last day I’ll be in the office for (counting…counting…) oh my god, 11 days. Just a few or nineteen more hours to 11 days off from having to put on pants every single day and go out into the cold and ride the train with crazy people and being tempted, for just that one shining split second, when you’re walking toward the escalator that takes you up out of the station and the outbound train that takes you back home comes pulling up, to leap back on it and fly all the way home and crawl back into bed and stay there forever and ever because isn’t bed the very best place on earth? It is, and you don’t know how grateful I am that soon I will have 11 days of maybe getting out of bed, but then again, maybe not! It’s all up to me! It is nice to have choices.
But first I have to make it through this, the last day, which is supposed to be a half day but which is not, so far, looking very promising, vis a vis the getting out of early. Things are piling up in the inbox, people are shouting, footsteps are pounding down the hallways and very cross emails about commas keep appearing, and it is taking a lot of willpower to not howl for the love of figgy pudding, people! Get it the fuck together! Go home! Get out! Is advertising really so vitally important and vital and important? There is a part of me that thinks “no.” The rest of me thinks “fuck, no.” But all of me is reluctantly enjoying the perks of working at an ad agency at the holidays, where things are frantic, yet jolly, and vendors like to express their love in the form of cookies. Yay, cookies! Ow, my belly.
This is not so terribly bad either, because I am sitting here with a
silver ribbon on my head and a bottle of champagne on my desk, a tub of
homemade chocolate chip cookies at my feet and The Book of Mormon in my
bag, because the project managers are very funny ha ha and enjoy their
hilarious jokes about me moving to Utah. Yesterday the proofreading
department exchanged mixed CDs and the office is filled with good music
right now, and the head of the department gave me a Bad Hair Day
Beanie, a beautiful little wool cap in which I look jaunty and not at
all as if I am trying to hide the terrible hair that I have, which is
very terrible. Though much cuter with a silver ribbon on my head.
In a few more hours or nine, I get to head home and – not be on
vacation, because I have so much freelance work to do. But I get to do
it in my footy pajamas, on the futon, with a cat in my lap and the tree
lights on. Then I’ll tidy up the house, maybe take a hot bath. Crawl
back on the futon and watch some TiVo while I crochet some last-minute
holiday gifts. Tomorrow is dinner and gift exchanges with some of my
favorite people, maybe busting open some of this champagne. On Sunday,
fabulous brunch with a friend in town, a ride to the airport and out to
Utah, where I am going to have a white Christmas even if I have to fly
up into the atmosphere and seed the goddamn clouds my goddamn self. A
beautiful tree, people who love me and piles of puppies, because this
is a family of puppy having puppy lovers, and it sounds like the best
few days ever. A few more or twelve hundred hours to go to the end, and
then everything begins. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
I hope your holidays are joyous and bright and filled with all those other lovely holiday card kind of phrases. Merry, Happy, hooray!