Most of the time my days consist of stare-at-the-computer-and-doubt-myself but lately things have been a bit different because we’ve been so busy gearing up for the opening of Nowhere Bookshop (hopefully) this month. This week two reporters asked to come film so I agreed to meet them at the store (which is currently a semi-shambles).
This is that story:
8am: Wake up and congratulate myself for being up before 11. Start thinking about what to say to interviewers this afternoon because if I don’t have sound bites already in my head I’ll start rambling or will say something about serial killers.
8:02 am: Elizabeth texts me to ask when I’ll be at the bookstore since the KSAT film crew is already waiting for me. Because apparently I fucked up the time on my calendar.
8:40am: Arrive at the bookstore with no makeup, unshowered, and realize that someone took my brush out of my purse. Totally fucked. But the first news people were very kind in spite of the fact that I was a hot mess.
9:30 am: Run to the drugstore to buy a brush. Bought the packaged set of two brushes because it seemed a better deal. Then realized back at the bookstore that I didn’t have scissors to cut the brush out of the plastic bands anchoring them to the packaging. Brushed my hair with a package of brushes as several painters shook their head in confusion and I explained that I had to do that because I didn’t have scissors. Then Victor called and I explained how I’d fucked everything up and he was like, “But the brushes are just attached to paper, right?” Couldn’t you have just ripped the cardboard?” *sigh* Yes. Yes, I could have.
9:45 am Texted the lady from Spectrum News to ask if she wanted to come earlier. Specifically, I text her this:
10:00am The Spectrum lady can’t come early. I can’t leave because a driver is delivering some furniture for the store and I’m supposed to meet the movers who will move it from the truck to the store and tell them where it’s supposed to go and no one knows exactly when everyone is arriving.
10am-1pm: There is a weird, small space in the bookshop behind the wheelchair ramp which is perfect for hiding in while reading. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.
1pm – The Spectrum reporter arrives. The driver arrives at the exact same time because of course he does. No one can get in touch with movers who seem to have bailed. The driver says he has to be off the clock in 30 minutes and I have a small panic attack. He says he can try to offload the two giant counters (800 lbs each) himself into the alley but only in a Maguyver kind of way that is not exactly like like tying the counters to the building and then driving away quickly, but close. I suspect Victor would say this was not the way to handle this but I was put in charge and also that sounded like something that would be fun to see so I shrugged and he went off to find strong ropes while I did the interview.
1:20pm: I do a portion of the interview while absent-mindedly petting the dead raccoon (Rory) I’d brought along for comfort but the reporter is very sweet and has read me enough to understand the weirdness so it’s fine. At the end of the interview she asks if there’s anything else people should know and I mention that I’d like people to know that I’m holding the microphone in my lap because the lapel mic didn’t work and I just realized that my phone has been vibrating like crazy against the mic as Victor sent me frantic text messages and that the microphone might have picked up the loud vibrations and made it sound like I was repeatedly (and somewhat rythmically) farting.
“It’s not farts,” I say to the camera.
This day has gone off the rails entirely and It’s not even 2pm.
1:25 pm: I go outside to check on the driver who has now managed to unload the pieces in ways I don’t want to imagine and I congratulate him just as I answer a call from Victor who is telling me that the movers are definitely not coming and the driver needs to just come back tomorrow with the counters. I explain that that probably isn’t an option any more and as Victor starts to huff Elizabeth arrives and is like, “CALM YOUR TITS. WE GOT THIS” because she’s been slinging books for decades and was like, “I’ve pallet-jacked 1,000 lbs of books at a time. We can totally drag 2 counters through an alley.”
AND WE DID.
Well, sort of. The first counter was easy but the other one was really long so it hung off the end of the dolly and the only way to lift it up was to have more weight on one side so I jumped on that end and Elizabeth pulled as we sort of reenacted the Laurel and Hardy piano mover scene…
…and then somehow managed to wedge it against the slope of the alley.
But then the driver and all the guys who were working inside came out to laugh at (slash) help us.
And it was ridiculous.
And honestly fantastic.
(Special thanks to Nanako Pastol -one of the talented muralists working in the alley- who managed to capture these precious moments.)
2:00pm Headed home to celebrate a semi-victorious day with a cocktail. Heard a terrible breaking sound as I stopped short for a yellow light and remembered I’d left a chandelier I had restrung in the backseat. Added “Restring chandelier…again” to my mental list of things to do.
3:00 pm: Decided to do some crafts to unwind. Spent an hour super-glueing hair clips and brooch backs to these Peruvian paste food sculptures I bought at the flea market.
Somehow manage to super glue my own hair.
Twice.
5pm: Fell asleep on the couch.
6pm: Woke up. Hair glued to couch. Sighed so loud I scared the dog.
7pm: Curled up in bed with a warm cat, a good book, and my child who wants me to watch her play electric guitar. Victor reluctantly admits that Elizabeth and I did well today. I decide not to tell him about the farts, the chandelier or the hair glued to the couch. Instead I celebrate the victories. I left the house. I talked to people. I laughed in impossible situation. I made strange barrettes. I gave myself a haircut. These are not little things.
*end*