Friday, February 07, 2003

running on fumes

I woke up at 3AM and wasn't able to sleep again. Poor Nikki was conked out after the inital phase of packing up our stuff (a hell of a lot of comics, trades and books - despite The Culling, when Nikki and I make harsh judgements and condemn certain reading material to obliviion, to the shock and consternation of our friends). Sage tried to help but of course her version of helping is actually unpacking packed things. So my poor wife is dead tired and I have no one to talk to in the wee morning hours.

And my internet connection, as per my instructions, is gone - so no surfing.

I smoked a ciggie at the terrace and though about how things were going in my life, my business, my craft. All in all, still great, no true angst, except for the occasional zinger that comes unexpectedly.

So here I am at my office, absurdly early and half-zombified by sleep deprivation. To top things off, I have 3 client pitches/bids/presentations scheduled for the day, in addition to the usual things I need to do. My partner Marc is off to distant Laguna for a client photoshoot, my best Project Manager may have been striken by an ameoba, my youngest designer doesn't come back until after next week, blah blah blah.

A thousand things to do and I feel like a cat died in my mouth, despite repeated toothbrushing. And I haven't shaved so I look...shifty.

Well, off to Presentation # 1. I'm hoping my mouth goes on automatic because, really, I'm running on fumes.


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