If you looked up exhaustion in the dictionary, you'd, sadly, see a picture of me, and probably the majority of my staff huddled close by, as well. At the moment, we're so tired we are keeping ourselves awake at night. Between surviving bouts of broncitis masquarading as faux pneumonia, outrunning cops while driving on suspended licenses, pretending not to have a hacking cough, the ufortunate illness of a dear friend, and the pinnacle of fatigue.....a visit from Marianne and Jim. If you can remember Lili Von Shtupp from Blazing Saddles...."let's face it, I'm tired". We're all tired and the light at the end of tunnel comes full blast at 10pm, Saturday night. At that point, I have a feeling that anything that comes later will be a piece of cake.
Big dinner, and all of the supporting cast, with the exception of your favourite author, have yet to experience something on this large a scale. Actually, that's not completely true...the bonbon candy did survive the June picnic. So, she's got the second most experience..... I'm not overly concerned, just midly cautious. I expect to make it seem to everyone who'll be getting drunk on shitty wine and even shittier beer that the entire affair was effortless. To those of us behind the lines, all we want is a bunch of pills, lots of booze, some excellent foot massages, the occasional hot breathy kiss on our throats, and some sleep....sleep that is not interupted by a towerlike pile of towels that requires folding and surely not interupted by sole that needs breading or brisket that needs braising or napkins, all 225 of them, that need tieing into need folds.
I'm ready for my close up Mr. DeMille......
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