Alternate title: A Really Fucking Demoralizing Start To The New Year.
Or: HomeValley Is Warrior That Will Persevere!
Or Even: Fuck Everyone.
A tale best told in third person.
So, HomeValley's day begins with a slight anxiety attack. Slight, that is, lasting all night resulting in cold sweat and rapid heart beat and waking every hour or so with a start squinting to read the alarm and oh my Lord is it fucking five AM yet?!?!
Obviously, need to work more diligently on becoming ZenMaster.
So HomeValley treks to 30th Street Station bound for New Haven, Connecticut. Remembers suddenly that knowledge is POWER, y'all, and so eschews tabloids (as has for last six months or so) and selects The New York Times.
HV luuuurrrrrves international news, which today unfortunately consists of murdered American embassy worker in Sudan; continued unrest in Kenya which recently resulted in burning of women and children huddled in church for safety; plus one Saudi blogger detained in Riyadh for "questioning".
Still, HV tries to maintain positive 2008 outlook. Sighs loudly, quells familiar urge to travel to the Middle East and make a difference with charming disposition, then shakes head in attempt to release negative thoughts. How lucky I am, she thinks. Iranian women can be jailed for wearing long boots over pants, for fuck's sake.
Then, HV notices something amiss at station. The Acela is running fifty minutes behind schedule, which means she will miss Christmas present to self in form of Swedish massage at Connecticut spa before meeting, twenty-four hour cancellation policy, blah dee blah spoiled, and out some money blah blah blee.
Train finally arrives, and HV catches up on mounds of work, continues reading The Times (countdown to the Iowa caucuses!), resolves to make scheduled appointment so help her GOD.
Amazingly, makes it to spa. Rips off clothes, envelopes self in soft, white robe, saunters into relaxation room. Considers good fortune, sips chamomile tea, designs own relaxation room in mind for spare third floor bedroom (to do: buy Enya CD, soft lighting, aromatherapy candles).
Massage. Otherworldly. Life good.
Afterwards, returns to women's locker room ready to be deep-fried (that is, covered in oil). Doesn't mind. Pays discounted tab and checks into room. Must shower and dress again today (all before noon), but life is beautiful. Dresses quickly and scurries to afternoon meeting.
Enter freshly scrubbed, ZenMaster HomeValley. Meeting already in progress. (HV not on agenda until much later.)
HV is unceremoniously asked to leave meeting. Face turns crimson, retreats back to room. Quickly dials most trusted coworker for emergency guidance. Still on vacation. Blast!
(Here HV should explain actual circumstances, save the melodrama. Was guest at meeting and team was discussing something team leader believed HV should not be privy too. Yet, with ego the size of Yao Ming, HV was ever so slightly humiliated, as no such event has ever occurred in entire career.)
Sent to room, essentially, HomeValley reaches out to Grace for a consult. Grace urges HV to remain steadfast and not be deterred. HV concurs. After all, it is 2008! Does no one get that?
Returns to meeting when called (well, stalls for many, many minutes, as HV is not your bitch!); provides information in meeting, gets mocked good-naturedly by coworkers who find her dismissal both unbelievable and comical.
Meeting adjourned. Martini. Miller Lite. Hibachi.
[Here is the point in the story in which HV has woken up at 2:52 AM and has wisely decided to censor herself, so as to save career in likely event that in year 2008, blog receives critical acclaim, mass readership, inevitable book deal. HV is sure you understand. She'll discuss it with you offline.]
[Suffice it to say, HV was offended by something, which she transcribed here in her typical eloquent and clever prose.]
[Ultimately, she is fine and has retained general awesomeness and ZenMaster disposition.]
[2008, y'all. ]