Self Abuse

I want to thank everyone for your concern over my ankle (it is slowly getting better.)

Your interest in my husband’s rentability made me laugh. Just to be clear, as a fisherman, he is very good with his pole and it is only this ability that I would consider lending out. He only told me about the woman paying attention to his lure once we were home, so we never did actually get to hook her.

At our last family reunion, I was suckered into being the new secretary. I admit to being a sap but the woman who held the position before looked so forlorn and downtrodden after five years, I decided to take over. How hard could it be?

My first duty was to book the pavilion for next year. The appointed date to call the PA Park Service was August 15th, according to the notes left me by my predecessor. I have been on edge since mid-July, worrying that I would miss the date, not get the required date for next year, disappoint my father and look like a fool incapable of doing the simplest things. Yeah, I know, I’m not wrapped too tight.

Tuesday night I was so agitated I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, finally falling into a nightmare where I slept through the seven o’clock deadline to call. I had this nightmare about five times before the alarm went off.

I got up, made my coffee and walked around the kitchen staring at all of the sticky notes posted around the room with the word “Pavilion” written on them. I called at six fifty-five and got a recording telling me the office didn’t open until seven. I called again at seven. The automated system couldn’t find the park I wanted. I was sure someone would get my date and pavilion before I could figure the system out.

At five after seven I got a live body. She politely asked for the park I wanted. She asked what date I wanted. I was five days too early. They only took reservations exactly eleven months to the day. I’d have to go through all of this again on the twentieth.

I’m a little cranky right now.