Last week was a wild ride of fun things that lead to too-late nights and lots of work that lead to not enough taking care of myself. My iPhone arrived and I have been neglecting the big black camera. I have been spinning at high speed and not slowing myself down enough to honor my practice of observance that I have learned is necessary to keep me sane.
I moved offices at work at then end of the week before last, out of an office I've had (and loved) for over four years, across the building to an office that has lovely light and better proximity to the folks I work with most often. But it was sad for me to pack up my stuff, take apart my cozy space, leave the spot that held so many memories. A lot has changed in my career while I lived in that office. And I had made it a pretty nice space to be. Pictures and paintings on the walls, plants, a red curtain and a red leather comfy chair. Friends tended to stop by just to sit with me and soak it up when they needed to wind down a bit. I packed up my boxes on a Friday night (with some assistance from sweet meriko, who brought me a glass of wine and kept me company while I disassembled) and left them for the movers, then arrived on Monday morning and reported to the new spot. Since then I have only unpacked the minimum of stuff to get my work done. I need to have the desk in my new office re-configured, and in the meantime I don't have quite enough room for me in there. My lovely red chair is shoved under the desk, and my boxes are still stacked by the door. When people come by for meetings we have to do a complicated dance of chair and door and filing cabinet to get the door shut and make a place for them to sit. Late in the week meriko busied herself while waiting for me to talk to someone by digging out my red curtain and draping it over my still-empty shelves. "Not enough color in here," she said, when I raised my eyebrows at her climbing on my desk. I hung the curtain properly in the window before I left work Friday. Today I will get some help jettisoning the enormous and superflous filing cabinet out of there, so I can use my red chair again.
Last week was also the first week of a three-week marathon of me covering for someone's (much needed and deserved) vacation. He did a great job of setting me up and handing off his work, but I have no less of my own work to do, so I'm juggling priorities and watching the things I can't catch fall apart. Not my favorite way to work.
I wrapped up the weekend with another concert, this time Joe Sample/Randy Crawford and Tower of Power. I was tagging along with a friend, and got to meet some of his other friends as a result. He'd been excited about the Sample and Crawford part of the show, but I didn't know anything about the other group, and was totally surprised to have them come out playing really awesome soul/funk dance music. It was an outdoor show, the evening was warm, the moon rose full and gorgeous, and I stripped down to my tank top and danced and danced. Back when I was a goth, I used to go dancing every week. I loved to dance alone, close my eyes and lose myself in the music. I miss the dancing. I think I need more dancing in my life.