MY KINGDOM FOR AN ENDORPHIN

15 February 2003

In recent years, I've considered myself a relatively placid individual. I don't get angry with much. I don't get too frustrated about a lot of things. Since I started becoming more physically active, it doesn't bother me to park a few blocks away from a destination and walk. I'm rarely in so much of a hurry that it makes me angry to get caught in traffic. It's not really worth it to get upset about little things. Life's too short.

I knew it was too good to last.

Of course it could have something to do with trying to do 3 jobs at once plus have a modicum of a social life, try to get exercise in and all that sort of thing--all the while just about to push the "6" up into that age bracket. People my age are retiring, not trying to work three different paying jobs--even if none of them is a full time one--plus a couple of volunteer ones.

I kinda figured when I was caught in traffic downtown this afternoon, and just missed a green light, causing me to pound on the steering wheel of the car and scream a 4-letter word, that perhaps I was just a tad too tense.

It had been building all week. Having Dr. G gone for 2 days was a tremendous help (I can't imagine what I would be like now if he had been here this week!) But he left behind enough to do to keep me busy, and when his pile ran low, the psychiatrist added to it. There was also The Puppetry of the Penis to review (I just found out the tickets for that thing were $45 each. My heavens!), a feature article to get done, a family dinner (I fear I didn't feel very charitable to my mother-in-law, whom I usually get along with quite well, when she suggested that if I'd go bike riding a little earlier --than 5 a.m.?--I could have gotten off work earlier and she wouldn't have had to wait half an hour for us to pick her up for dinner). There was nothing big, but a bazillion little things.

When Dr. G got home from his workshop, he had a full plate too and so apologized, but gave me the sorts of little things he'd usually take care of for himself--appointments to make...that sort of thing. We also had two major deadlines to make for the office and another bazillion little things to juggle.

That started it. I spent yesterday on the phone and I don't think I talked to a single person. Not one. I nearly threw the phone across the room at one point when I was listening to my bazillionth voice mail. Take, for example, the people who are in charge of licensing the new equipment we're about to install. I was supposed to call someone named Lynn and had already called twice, leaving messages whenever she wasn't there, but of course she never returned my calls.

Yesterday, I got the message that she would be out of town until Tuesday. Since Dr. G wanted an answer before the end of the week, I followed her instructions to "dial #03 to reach an operator." Well. Wrong. #03 gives you yet another recording that says "to enter your voice mailbox, enter the number; to hear this message again, press #" If you press # you get that message again. There was no way on earth that I could reach anybody at the licensing office.

Same thing when I attempted to make a medical appointment for Dr. G. I'd left a message, which was not returned, and then when I called again, I got put through to another voice mail message. It went like that all day long. I had begun to think I was really in a Twilight Zone episode.

Then there was all the work that needs to get done before we fly to LA tomorrow, including buying food for the dog, washing my hair, and finishing Chapter 13 for Dr. G's book (which I haven't started yet, and which he plans to edit over the weekend).

My heavens--I'm so wound up I can't even think linearly to write this entry!

Anyway, let's just deal with today and my screaming fit in the car. I tried to finish off the feature article before I went to sleep, but I just don't seem to have the staying power I used to have. I got up at 3:30 and worked on it, but realized I needed some additional information, which I obviously couldn't call anybody to get at that hour.

I did what I could and then went biking with Cindy, got breakfast fixed for Walt, and did some more on the article. Once again I was faced with the realization of how very much I hate writing. I love "having written" (someone famous said that--I don't remember who), but the writing process, when it's for something that is going to be published (unlike this journal) I die the death doing it. I enjoy "having written" enough that I am willing to go through the hell that I do whenever I write something, but it sure ain't a pretty sight sometimes. This was one of those times. I was angry with myself for some things I hadn't done that I should have and didn't think of, but knew it was too late.

I finally managed to get it all done and e-mailed to my editor, and within 30 seconds was in the car, racing off to the office. Yesterday afternoon, I'd been juggling so many things, going through voice mail hell on the phone, trying to get to the bank in time, etc., etc., that the deposit didn't get made and needed to be made in one bank before noon, and in another bank before the end of the day (to cover the money I was putting in the first bank). I did manage to get the first deposit made and then raced back to the office to get an overnight mail delivery ready to take to the post office.

I stopped at home en route to pick up a bunch of packages I had to mail here--mostly packets of information about The Big Voice plus a videotape for people who are considering having Steve and Jimmy do it at their theatre. I also had a few other things to mail, including a CD for SecraTerri (that's a sneaky way of letting her know that her CD is in the mail).

When I stopped at the office, there were several important phone calls to return first, the big deposit to be put together to take to the second bank, and all the post office stuff to gather up.

As I drove into the post office parking lot I thought "well, this won't be too bad." It was only half full--unheard of. I expected to breeze in and breeze out, but no. The line still stretched out to the door because, with seven stations for clerks there was ONLY ONE FREAKING CLERK WORKING. And this was the chatty guy, so everybody was taking forever to get through the line. (My heart is pounding again even as I type this recounting of it)

Then off to the bank, getting stopped at the aforementioned stopight and screaming.

I found a parkng place 2 blocks away and went to get the deposit...but the envelope was just gone. Nowhere to be found. Not in the box with the packages. Not in my purse. Not on the seat. Not slid down between the seat and the door. Nowhere. This was a $12,000 deposit and I totally freaked out.

I got in the car and raced back across town to the office, hoping I'd left it on my desk, but it wasn't there. Not on the desk. Not on the file cabinet. Not on the floor. Not on the ground where my car had been parked earlier. I was about ready to totally lose it when I decided to tear the front seat of the car apart again and there, wedged UNDER the seat--lord knows how it got there--was the envelope.

Back across town again, make the deposit as quickly as I can.

There is still a mountain of work that needs to be finished before Monday--and I'll be gone all weekend, so what doesn't get done tonight won't get done. I left the lights on in the office because I have to go back and at least straighten up, since the desk is a shambles.

To my amazement, however, the only thing I want to do right now is....go for a long bike ride! So I'm about to pack up my camera, set the timer on the Palm Pilot for 60 minutes and just go ride and ride and ride and see if I can't get rid of some of this stress that has me wound so tightly I feel like I could totally lose it very quickly.

What a good idea that was.  There's really something to that endorphin jazz.   I rode for about 10 miles, out into the country, then back through the greenbelt area, over the overpass-formerly-known-as-dreaded (I was amused to remember that I used to try to gather momentum up to 12 mph to get a head start on the overpass and was barely moving by the time I got to the top, in one of the lowest gears.  Today I was already going 12 mph and sailed up over the top at 10 mph, only having shifted down one gear), and then home.  En route, I found an overlook over a bird sanctuary that I didn't know existed and I stood there for about 20 minutes just listening to the geese and taking pictures.  It was a wonderfully calming way to pass an hour.  It didn't even bother me to return to the office to lock up and get several messages with more things that had to get done.  I was riding high on endorphins and I'm feeling just fine right now.