This is what my day's last Culinary Adventure contained (thanks to a coworker for that perfect word combo!). It began with trying to conquer the poached egg. Alas, a second failure, despite having googled advice and technique from the internet. I even got brave and used balsamic vinegar, but that just made a more colorful mess as the whites ran a muck in the roiling stew of water. Patting it all back together with a slotted wooden spoon made for a pathetic little pile of goo in the plate. Not unpalatable, but not right and definitely overcooked (that part was my own fault, I have a feeling, as I didn't want to toss the mess into cold water to stop the cooking). Everybody out of the pool!
So, I end my day with something less predictable, but more prefab. I'm really just trying to stay awake after my graveyard into this morning so I can flop back for more, though different, in the morning. It's harder than you might imagine, to stay a demotivated lump on the couch after being up for more than a day, thoughts of productivity dancing in your head, AND still stay awake. It's the kind of thing that seems reasonable right up to the moment the key hits the lock on the way in the door. But, with a little help from my darling, coffee, and, later, my long-time associate, Dr. Pepper, the battle is nearly won. That and some lively Facebook posting has kept things humming along. It really is better to be up in the late evening. I don't care what other people say.
Now, why is it that I feel like I'm going backwards in my so-called career? Well, my friends, a "regular" schedule will do that to ya after a few years, I guess. Event stagehand work is like being on a never ending hamster wheel, no end in sight, even when the LED is shining directly into your eyeball and they are slapping you around telling you to go home already. Just because it is a "different event" doesn't mean it's not the same hamster wheel with the same shavings and alfalfa pellets. Since I've never quite gotten it together to get any goals going, I guess I might have already arrived and didn't know it. As Peggy Lee sang, "Is that all there is?" Only my feet hurt, so I'll pass on the dancing for now. Just pass the monkey butt powder instead. Gee, thanks. Yeah, it's a brave new world even when it's the same old shit. Strange. And yet, oddly familiar.
