This morning I actually got up out of my bed at 5:00am.

Ok, 5:15.

I adequately prepared myself for this by retiring at 9:30pm, so I wasn’t too terribly groggy. Showered, dried the freakishly long hair (side note: it’s now long enough to reach the top of my arm pit crease. I’m mad at my hairdresser and am procrastinating about making a decision on what to do with it), and was driving to Pine Bluff by 6am.

I can’t leave out the quick drive-thru at McD’s for 2 plain biscuits and a medium OJ, despite the fact that I still feel sick to my stomach about the place after watching Super Size Me. I have, however, forever sworn off McD’s fries (if you saw the special features on the DVD you know what I mean) and burgers.

On one of the in-town turns I thought I heard something metal clanging as I drove by.
I dismissed it.

Forty-five minutes later I’m sitting in my car, in the rain, at the hardware store in Pine Bluff, waiting for them to open at 7am. During the fifteen minutes I have to sit in my car, a man comes out to smoke a cigarette before beginning his day. He’s wearing jeans and a blue button-up company shirt. After lighting up, he shoves both hands in his pockets and I nearly choke on my own spit. While standing no more than 4 feet from the front of my car, this man’s fly is completely open. Suddenly my mind is going at a pace not fit for 6:52 in the morning.

“Should I tell him?”
“Would he be horribly embarassed?”
“Do I preface it with, ‘don’t be embarassed, I didn’t see anything, but…’ ??”
“Hmm… surely this other employee who is coming out to smoke with him will notice.”
“He’s… not noticing. Maybe it’s that guy thing where they don’t look below the “invisible line” - like at urinals!”
“Someone else will tell him.”
“Maybe it’s broken and he already knows?”
“I can’t help looking again!!”
“Nope, can’t see anything but his tucked-in shirt.”
“Man is that shirt tucked in tight!!”
“Oh, they’ve unlocked the doors, time to go in.”
“Don’t look at him.”

I go inside, buy the two things I need for a photo shoot later in the day. One item has to be put into my car from a loading area on the back side of the building. So I pay for everything and go back to the car (he’s still there, with the guy-who-isn’t-seeing-it). I notice that I’m missing a wheel cover.

“Hmmm.. must have been the metal clanging I heard earlier.”
“What road was I on?”
“blank……..”

I start to drive towards the area where I think I can get to that back door, and it’s blocked by some trucks. Hit reverse, ask Mr. Gaping Fly how I can get there? He says, “Let me move my truck.” Yeah.

Truck moves, I drive to the back door. What I’ve purchased must be cut down so it will fit in my tiny car. Guess who gets to use the handsaw to cut it? Mr. Gaping, of course. Different-employee-who-helped-me-earlier also doesn’t notice the exposure I’m having to endure. After 2 minutes of handsawing, I say thank you and jump in my car as fast as possible. Mr. Gaping says to me, “don’t forget to close your other door” (meaning passenger side). I’m thinking: “I don’t care if this car is on fire, I’m driving it out of here NOW before I see something I’d rather not!!” Yank door closed, speed off.

Forty-five minutes later I’m back in Little Rock and it’s not even 8am yet. No one really shows up at work until 9, even though our work day starts at 8:30. First things first: paint a coat of red paint on the $25 door I purchased for this photo shoot (just the area to show up in the photo). Answer 20 questions about why I’m painting a door. Move on to laying in copy for a brochure due at noon on Wednesday. Paint another coat on door. Go to lunch, eat too much bar-b-que at Whole Hog and get a taste of what Thanksgiving day will feel like (ughhh…). Vow to not eat anything until Thanksgiving. Back at the office. Work on brochure some more. Gather all things needed for photoshoot, including door. Crap!, elevator is broken. Get strong man to carry door down 3 flights of stairs. Load car and drive to photographer’s studio.

Once I got to the studio, I realized that I left one prop in my car, that I didn’t have some valuable information I needed that was at the office, and that the lights were hot enough that some paint i was going to be using (not on the door) would dry too quickly and that a paint retarder was needed, which was at the art store. I had the info faxed, and went to get the other two things in separate trips. Two different guys at the art store didn’t want me to buy the retarder. I don’t want the gloss that makes my paint thinner, I say. They’re like, this stuff is strong and your project will never dry. HELLO!! Went to art school, folks! That’s what I want! (notice the patience is waining) Now why don’t you carry Liquitex brand paints? There’s really no excuse for that, Art Outfitters, NO excuse. In the future, I suggest shutting the trap and just working the register. really.

Photoshoot lasts until 8:30pm. Come home to Joe and Josh eating stinky Chinese, watching the attack of the Death Star on the stereo that has finally been hooked up b/c Josh got a 2nd pair of speaker stands in the mail. Now we have rear speakers that are taller than your head when sitting on the couch. And wires that go over a door frame for which I now need a permanent Christmas garland.

Now to wrap presents (we’re having xmas at my parents house this weekend) and do laundry. Tomorrow is the agency thanksgiving potluck, but I don’t have time to make anything.

ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…