This week is hectic, for me. At least, it feels hectic.
Tuesday afternoon, I will be going to a client's home to study the architectural detailing. Her house was built by my employer a couple of years ago, and Oldsmobile considers it to be his "best house." I will be using some of the same details on my current project. I am also supposed to meet with The Boss to discuss the interior architectural details for the project on which I'm working.
Tuesday evening, I am having dinner with some family friends.
Wednesday afternoon, I have a meeting with my current clients, who are by all accounts a family of very tall people. The counters and doors in their houses are all taller than those in average homes for this reason. Apparently, one member of the family cannot walk through a standard 6'8" door without bonking his head. I am intrigued by the giant clients. Yes, that is intended to be a poor rhyme.
Wednesday evening, I intend to scout the locations of some apartments I've found on the Internet. I have a list written up in my purse, just waiting for me to go search them out.
Thursday evening, I am speaking at a charity fundraiser, at which I will be introduced to Brooke Shields. I speak often at events for the charity. As is to be expected, I am now obsessing over what I will wear. Because I am newly re-employed, and because I am trying to save money, I intend to recycle something I already own. I just don't know what I will be recycling, yet. I will also most likely have to change in the bathroom at work before I go, which will be interesting, unless I can get into the unused office space our firm leases to use it for a changing room. I think its blinds are semi-transparent, though.
I always cry when I speak at fundraisers, and I've been an emotional wreck lately, given multiple facts that have recently come to light, so I'll just have to make sure I have a pretty handkerchief with me when I speak. I cut some of the stuff that brings out the waterworks in me (I'm adapting a previously given speech), but I don't really know how to deliver a light-hearted speech about children with cancer and maybe-dying*. The gallows humor I employed to get me through the ordeal of having cancer doesn't play well in front of a crowd that doesn't know me, or my ghastly sense of humor.
I guess I just won't wear mascara on my lower lashes so I don't have to worry about it running.
*In case you didn't know, yeah, I had cancer as a teenager.
(Creative Commons Sharealike Licensed Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons user Ed Uthman may be found at http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chronic_Lymphocytic_Leukemia.jpg)
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