The universe is definitely out to get me. No, I am not paranoid, I have evidence. To wit: after weeks of wishing that the weather would cool down, that we might even get, oh I don't know, rain down here in the desert-y part of the state, I woke up this morning and it was raining. Raining. On the day that I have spent weeks planning an event which is to take place OUTSIDE. In the rain.
Except not. After two fairly hysteric hours on the phone, post van pickup but prior to airport pickup, I have managed to find a space indoors on campus. It's not ideal -- the pizza that we are serving cannot be brought into the space, so we'll have to find a way to serve it between the two groups who are performing. And, of course, there's no walk-by traffic to build the audience. And, of course, it's not only too late to change the posters, but the university apparently has not a single A-frame available to post room-change signs on, and Facilities (which did not even bother to set up the chairs I'd ordered for Tuesday night's event in time for Tuesday night's event) set up the chairs for tonight's event in the rain this morning, and are charging me for them even though we aren't using them and didn't ask for them until 3:30 this afternoon, which would have been plenty of time to cancel the order.
This is the point when I have to consider the fact that the one common element in all of my life's latest disasters is: ME. I must have done something very wrong in a past life. Either that, or I've done something very wrong in this life that I have forgotten about. Either that, or (and this is a more hopeful interpretation) I'm PRE-paying for really good things to come. I like that idea best.
However, a very small hour and a half window has just opened up -- the dancers are at their hotel, fed and (I hope) happy. Rick has taken the girls to their piano lesson, which their teacher kindly agreed to schedule early so they can come tonight. I am alone (blessed solitude) in my house, and I intend to finish my sabbatical application so that maybe, mirabile, I can, after dropping everyone off at the airport at 6:00 tomorrow morning and divesting myself of the packing crate on wheels we're calling a 15-person passenger van, I can not work this weekend. Maybe the girls and I will bake. And make a vat of chili. And take a nap. Maybe (I might be getting too ambitious here) I'll find a recipe and buy the ingredients for mojitos and make myself one tomorrow evening. Yes. That's the plan, and I'm stickin' to it like glue.
P.S. Five minutes later. I take it all back. The postman just came up my driveway and dropped off this:
(no time to take a real picture and upload it; I'm using my mac's photobooth -- note the backwards writing) Do you see the lovely colors of this yarn? And the Asparagus Cable socks pattern from Wendy that I've been wanting since she wrote it? And the lovely wee stitch marker with knitting needles and a ball of yarn that Sheri included just because she's so nice? Am I a dork because I am so easily made happy? I think not.