I'm all out of love

I'm not quite sure why, but I've had Air Supply tunes running through my head all day which means that I'm either (a) a gay ice dancer; or (b) exhausted to the point of delusion.

This little three-day work week has turned out to be quite the roller coaster. What kind of admissions director decides to take two days of vacation the week before four groups start? (A stupid one.) Does she not own a calendar? (Yes, she does. But she also owns a BlackBerry AND a brand-new MacBook Pro that will go through airport security and make her oh-so-accessible on vacation.)

I've discovered that the bad thing about three-day weeks is that you don't have a mere 24 hours worth of work. You still have 40 hours worth of work or more, you just have to cram it in the three days you're technically "working." And even then some of it spills over into your vacation time.

Yesterday my alarm sounded at 5:15 so that I could pack and put on a suit and meet my boss by 7 a.m. to drive to Harrison where I made small talk with strangers. I then drove through McDonalds for a regular cheeseburger with no pickles on my way to the office to frantically work on some files and freak out everyone in my general vicinity before driving to Fort Smith for the evening. Today I awoke at 5 a.m. to attempt creative writing, left the hotel at 7:15 a.m. for a downtown breakfast (more small talk with strangers), had a meeting, drove back to the office, pushed some more files around, ate Doritos and a 3 Muskateers for lunch at my desk, sped to campus for an admissions meeting, frantically searched for a network connection in a random office before I was kicked out at 6 p.m. while working on a "thing for the President if you have time," then finally finished and submitted my writing project that had to be done today at 8:22 p.m. I'm exhausted and still need to unpack and repack.

Lest you feel too sorry for me, I do feel the need to point out that in the past 24 hours I've eaten one of the best steaks of my life with Larry and Ashley, hung out with the very precious twins E and P Diddy, languished in a 30-minute whirlpool bath in a hotel room, talked to my awesome brother on the phone, and opened an unexpected check from my mortgage company. Tomorrow I have to stop by campus for a bit, then it's a day of massages and hair appointments (while my housekeeper cleans), driving to Tulsa, and boarding a jet plane bound for DFW. Can't wait to hang out with Lonnie and Jen this weekend. Woo-hoo! Just hope I can fit in sushi and Pappadeaux.

There is that pesky little conference call on Friday morning, but them's the breaks.

Oh, and in the words of Kat Ellis in "The Wedding Date" (seen 32 times per week on TBS) about Air Supply, "Everyone knows their greatest hits, but some of their ballads are surprisingly poignant."