I contradict myself

The event I coordinated for my museum on Saturday night was a splendid success. For various reasons, we only had a week for publicity, so I was expecting a maximum of twenty people. We had sixty (60). The musicians were talented and knowledgeable, the audience enjoyed themselves, and although we only had two staff on site (I thought we would have three) everything was still covered. I really do enjoy my job. I really do like working with museums.

But when I’m not being the sophisticated, collected Front of House/Visitor Services Assistant, I’m the mad woman tottering around town on only two and a half hours of sleep, thinking and speaking in confused Spanglish. The crazy lady who whispers to snowdrops and bluebells to stay asleep, it isn’t spring yet, it isn’t time to bloom, and who swings her umbrella at the swarm of seagulls that attack while she’s feeding the ducks (surprisingly effective, she might add).

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.

Thank goodness Mondays are my day off.

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