Tuesday, March 18, 2008

the real secret to getting (and staying) organized


(Sad, but true.)

I am living it right this moment. And you know there's something wrong with your life when you look forward to being awake in the middle of the night because at least then you'll be able to get some more stuff done.

I am going to be filmed by City TV later today, and my life is suddenly insane. I am already incredibly busy with my day job as Artistic Administrator for the Nathaniel Dett Chorale, and to top it off yesterday I had a migraine. There's nothing more crazy-making than driving around with a pounding head and a queasy stomach at 7 p.m. on a Monday night trying to find a lululemon store that's open so you can buy some new yoga pants for your upcoming television appearance.

I got home and promised myself that if I went to bed at a decent hour (rather than staying up extra late to get things done), I could work in the middle of the night when my chronic insomnia woke me up. (Which it has. And I am. Working in the middle of the night, that is.)

Since 4 a.m. I have been folding and putting away dry laundry, putting away dry dishes, making my bed (I may nap on top of it later this morning, but let's face it - I am not getting back in that puppy again tonight), working on an operating budget for the Chorale and (wait for it) pressing wrinkled photocopies of a recent Chorale newspaper article that somebody gave me (and getting photocopy toner all over my iron in the process).

This is how I stay organized, folks. I'm ashamed to admit it, but these days I depend on my sleep deficit to take care of all the dirty work.

And I feel really bad about my previous blog entry (on getting things done by giving them to a busy person). Because there's such a thing as being too busy.

I just replaced all the ink cartridges in my printer/copier/fax machine (it had been out of ink for about three weeks) because I only just bought the replacement ink last night. During my lululemon search. The re-inked printer did its rumbly cleaning routine, and then spit out a single sheet of paper. I'm assuming it's the last print job I tried to do before I ran out of ink; four tiny words on a sea of white space admonish me.

The Music We Are

(Which reminds me, I need to go over my Easter choral music before the end of the week.)

To be continued...

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