With a mere two days until liftoff, it’s getting to the point where the fear of forgetting things has overtaken the anxiety of not having finished everything. In truth, I don’t need to get that much done before I leave, but the spectre of potential loss is real until we’re checked into our flight. At that moment, as long as I have my passport, wallet, phone and a spare change of underwear, I’m golden. Now though it feels like every step is a wrong one, that anything that feels easy was *too* easy.
I exercised my right to work remotely today and logged into my work computer from home. Scratching the commute out of my day meant I had an extra two hours to play around with, clearly an opportunity to sleep in. That didn’t happen. Regardless of getting in from a party at 1.30am last night, regardless of setting an alarm, my body knew what 7.30am felt like and rose accordingly. Cursed internal chronometer. Having awoken two hours before I needed to be “at work” I opened pro tools and resumed editing the season finale of The Air Bud Pawdcast. It was a busy, tangential episode and the audio levels were all over the place.
I soldiered on, taking breaks to shower and get breakfast. If I was gonna be “at work” I was at least gonna be showered and dressed, elsewise fall into the temptation of slacking all day. I logged into the remote desktop application, loaded up all my work programs, checked my emails and alt+tabbed back to pro tools. Throughout the day I continued to work on the Pawdcast, checking work emails ever 15 minutes or so. At around 10.30am I got an email that required action. I spent two minutes completing the task and emailed them back to let them know I’d finished. That was the one and only piece of work that came in all day. Considering the 50 minute commute each way, I’m pretty fucking stoked I neglected to come into the office for all of two minutes’ work I could do from home.
After finishing the episode editing, mixdown and admin around 5.30pm, I felt like I’d completed a day of work. I was handily home to receive my brother’s courier package and started on packing clothing. Oddly enough, the one item I really need is something I don’t own: A hard wearing pair of summer shorts. Let me clarify, I have one, but the pair has a massive hole in the crotch. If I wanted the Dickeys Workwear equivalent of chaps, I’d be pretty damn close.
I still have yet to buy presents for my sub-eight month old nephews. Perhaps I can knock them out at the same place I’ll find shorts. We’ve got a friend coming to house/catsit, but I’ll need to do a write up of things to know. Garbage day, catcare dos and don’ts (I mean, she knows a lot about cats. Just not *this* cat) and what’s handy in the area. I need to start collating costs incurred for the trip in a workable spreadsheet, so my girlfriend can divvy them up afterwards. After I get there I need to have my suit dry cleaned for a wedding and find a suitable gift. We’ve got close to 24 hours travel in front of us, so I’d be dumb not to prep new music, download some movies with the new Netflix feature and put something on my kindle other than that Murakami back catalogue.
So much to do, so little time. When did everything become all early 2000s Olsen Twins up in this bitch?