Readers, I am procrastinating. I need to be packing for ALA Anaheim, reviewing about 200 books, re-reading all the AASL board, ALA council, and other documents, and going back to JFK to unpack boxes. Instead, I am fretting about the Inaugural Ball. I have to go this year. Worse, I have to stand where someone notices me and be announced. I can’t imagine anything worse. Oh, yes, then I have to walk across the room without falling down.
Readers, there is a reason I hide behind my nice little blog here where no one can see me. I don’t do spotlights. I just want to do the work. Could I just slip in with the servers from the kitchen?
Yikes! It gets worse. I have to wear a long dress. How can I go shopping for a long dress when I’m still going through the divorce and struggle to pay every bill? Let’s decide: electricity or new dress? Hmm! While I am very vain, I think the animals and children in my house would object to the 95 degree heat inside without electricity.
So, I’m pulling out a dress from several years ago when I was much thinner. We are all going to ignore the fact that I’ve gained so much weight from stress. I am going to put myself in this dress and walk out there. Oh, no! It has spaghetti straps and I have no shoulders to hold up the top. Okay, Dress Barn is selling shawls so I’ll go get one of those really cheaply and skip buying coffee this month to pay for it. Here’s what it looks like on a hanger.
Maybe I’ll post a picture of the dress on that night. I’m glad it’s black so I can hide in the shadows. Do me a favor and don’t look if you’re there then. I’ll be concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling. Thank goodness I only have to do this once. The next time someone asks me to serve in a capacity, I’m going to check on all spotlights required first.
Oh, no, I just read the notes and they take our picture, too. Does this mean I have to do my hair? Don’t they know how many meetings I have that day? Anybody good with a few bobby pins? I don’t have time to deal with hair, too. There is a reason my hair is long. It’s called no time to get it cut every 6 weeks and no time to fuss in the morning with boys.
You know what? This is so much stress that I’m going to throw some clothes in the case fast and go move several thousand books at JFK instead. I’d much rather work than worry about stuff like this. I didn’t have sisters growing up. I played cars with the neighbor boys and my brothers instead. Oh, look, the kittens have escaped again and are crawling all over Marshall. I have found another way to procrastinate and not focus on looks. PHEW! Saved from obsessing on looks. How do all of you glamorous people do this stuff? I just throw on a scarf and run out.