The Perfect Murder

I always try to pull off what I call "The Perfect Murder."  This is where I try and get a million things done all in time to sit down right before  the doorbell rings and guests arrive.  Just as if I have pulled off a murder and no one will be the wiser.  

Too many Quinn Martin Productions in my childhood, but that is the way I see life - as in "pulling it off."  Not "getting away with something" really, just "pulling it off."

This has, of course, only resulted in ulcers, frustration and burned pots from multi-tasking while cooking stovetop.

Today's episode is "House Guest Coming Tonight"

This is where I get up early clean the kitchen, clean the bathroom. Make coffee, read e-mails. Trim the dead plants on the terrace. Hoover. Pull out the freshly laundered duvet cover to put on her duvet  There is a safety pin that the laundry put in it. I take it off and stab myself. There is blood. The cream of wheat boils over on the stove.  I turn that off. Get a bandaid.   I sweep.  I have to finish watching a movie that I am moderating at an upcoming screening. It is all in sub-titles. With subtitles I cannot multi-task. But I do anyway so I constantly have to rewind.  I resent the film as I am busy.  I think about my cousin's wedding on New Year's Eve. I have not played my pipes in ages. I pause the movie and I pull the pipes out. I cannot play them now as I am still messed up with gum surgery. Cream of Wheat has been a major part of my diet. I put the pipes down and eat this stuff.  My pipes are effed up because I have not played them. The joints are stuck. I curse. I do not want to break the wood, but how am I going to be healed and ready in time to play her wedding? Damn I am going home to San Francisco for too long and I need to be here over the hols to get these pipes sorted. I have to take a crap (sorry, but part of life and story)  The toilet overflows.  It is spilling all over the freshly cleaned bathroom floor.  I am plunging. Nothing is happening. I finally manage to stop the water. I am mopping.  My gums are throbbing. My cream of wheat is cold. My pipes are in ruins.  I am unemployed.  Self pity has taken over. 

I recognize this. I take a break and sit in a chair with no pants as my jeans got wet from the suspect bathroom water. I have to cross town for a meeting.  Now. I have to call my landlord. 

I have stuff this afternoon.  I need to go to church and Musical Mondays now. Right now. 

So much for pulling off "The Perfect Murder."  I have to surrender.  I have to realize that it will all get done and it will all work out. 

And so far it has.  Just not on my schedule.

Ohmmmmmm.