So… I got notice that my Thing from The Thing Quarterly was shipped on Saturday… and when I just checked the status of the Thing, the post office website said a delivery attempt was made at 4:57 p.m. today. They LIE! I was sooo here at 4:57, cooking dinner, without music. My door was open! My ears were alert! I would not have missed an attempted dropoff! I want my Thing! They say they left “notice,” but indeed: there is no notice. I wonder if it’s a mistake — even shipped “priority,” I doubt the Thing could have been sent on Saturday from San Francisco (or something), and already arrived at my home in Denver Monday afternoon. It’s near. I can feel it! I hope it’s good! I hope I get actual notice!
Work was actually really good today, which is a nice break from the last week, in which it was keeping me up at night and waking me up at ungodly hours (like 2!!). I had a half-day meeting, lunch with the art librarians, and a really productive afternoon. Productivity of the Extreme Kind, moving through the new database (the cause of so many woes of late) like some kind of data-entry gazelle. I felt like I’d reached a state of flow, cataloging contemporary sculpture and installation. And then I got to the 19th century Western American prints (or something), and it all came crashing down. I traded gazelle-qualities for those of a buffalo (fittingly, given the bison subjects of several of the works) but I made it through a few of those, too.
Inspired (and happy to leave at 4), I came home and cooked some kind of pseudo-Indian concoction involving lentils and zucchini and spices and rice. And later on I baked some thank-you-I’m-sorry-things-have-been-rough-but-I appreciate-what-you-do-and-don’t-know-where-I’d-be-without-you chocolate caramel oat bars for the programmers at work, who have been overworked and frustrated, but who take every call and keep everything straight and fix bugs and help me out constantly. They’re cooling overnight, and I’ll let you know in the morning how they are (because I’m sooo ignoring the dairy and wheat and sugar in them and “testing” one). Thanks, Jenny, for the recipe (note that Jenny calls these “orgasmic” bars — I thought that would be sort of inappropriate)!
If you happen to be one of my grad students who is leaving this week: don’t be jealous of the orgasmic/thank you bars — your own special gift is coming from the other coast, moving along at snail pace!