return to normalcy - sortof.

I feel thoroughly purged of election madnes and somewhat purged of election sadness, and all of my nerves have turned into post-election handiness.

I woke this morning to discover that every last scrap of a story I and another reporter have been working on for two weeks has to be scrapped. Angry and angry and angry, I just started ripping through my to-do list like I'm Martha Stewart and I've got to report to Camp Cupcake in the morning. I cleaned my room, I organized prizes for the Leaky sweepstakes, organized the entries for the Leaky sweepstakes, filed, am editing photos right now from the Rankin interview, I mailed a couple of people I've been meaning to mail forever, and it looks like I've got an afternoon ahead where I can get even more done. And I'm still in my PJs and on my third cup of coffee (cinnamon spice, yum), but that's all right, because I've been productive. I still need to go to a few stores, pay bills, transcribe, etc., but somewhere in there my time will be punctuated by a lot of music, West Wing and teeth-gnashing over my lost work.

But it's okay, it's okay, I'm breathing, and life has been made infinitely better this morning because of the comic stylings of David, who is in high-pitched raptures over his new Powerbook. He's a Mac convert and fell in love at first sight of his new baby, and keeps calling and e-mailing to say things like "I've named it Jean-Claude" and "IT'S SO FAST!" and "IT'S SO LIGHT!" and "IT'S SO PRETTY!" and "MY LIFE IS SO GOOD RIGHT NOW" that I'm getting an infusion of giggles every fifteen minutes or so and that can not be but good. I said, of his sexy and petite 12-inch titanium new best friend, that I'd bet he wants to take it everywhere and he yelled, "I do because it's SO LIGHT!" He's losing his mind. It's hilarious.

And tonight there will be a Black 47 concert, tomorrow a journalism conference, lots of rest inbetween, Sunday an insane workday and Monday I'm off on a jet plane to London, and I'm trying to sort out the Leaky fundraiser and life in general. Life is TRULY insane. I always say it can't get nuttier, and I'm always wrong. But these are happy insanities, these next couple of weeks.

So, I guess the moral and point of this story is that life goes on and we're all feeling better with some space from the situation, and understand that our own little efforts to make the world better can add up to a big change. Even if it's just to laugh hysterically when your friend erupts over how hard a piece of metal and plastic named Jean Claude is rocking his world.