Hello, I am
During the day, and sometimes into the wee hours, I am a server at a Country Club. It's gets kinda chaotic because it is a restaurant, and banquet hall, and golf course, and some days run nasty long--like the weeks that are just non-stop party rockin in the house. Honestly, that's what it feels like.
It's like inviting 40 couples to "your house" for a luxurious gala wine-tasting this evening, but secretly wanting them out before 1am, so you can set up for--let's say--your cousin's 120person wedding the next day, where you don't know everybody, but he said, "because you're just THE BEST at parties," so you said okay, you'd host it. So now you're already trying to manage the list of rental items, serving procedures, cooking and decorating details, while you mingle with your guests--of course, still praying that they'll leave at a decent hour, so you're not entirely tunnel-gazing when you're trying to set 120 filigree place cards after they leave, and WTF, Mrs. Fekk, you're not seriously having ANOTHER glass of champagne, are you, because I don't want an encore performance of last year when you were squirming out the door at 2am, getting feisty about how you lost your phone, but I already found it in the damn toilet, so it's in the bag of rice in the backseat of...I'll email you a reminder in the morning, WHERE in The EFF is your husband... Haha, maybe I elaborate a little bit, but it is often a lot like that.
When I get home, I cry, I write... My brain is usually a strange, hectic, sometimes terrifying place, so I try to remember to use it to do good stuff and make pretty stuff. Now I think I can make tee shirts. Today tee shirts, tomorrow espresso machines... Watch out World