finger bandaged and doing ok

The other day. It started out good. I was happy that I finally addressed some school loan issues, along with some other things that I've been putting off. And I exercised. And most importantly, I did things before work, that is, hung out, did some errands (happy errands), got a coffee. All so that I sort of wound up at work, rather going immediately to work. Because, normally I leave for work at 9:30 pm. Which is dismal. So, the other day I decided instead to leave at around 7pm, and do things along the way. I was attempting to Live My Life. And that is just not like me.

Then I got to work, and it was this horrendous private party which filled the club to capacity. I knew over a week ago that this was going to be the case. That we would be insanely busy. And that was OK. But, still, I felt horribly guilty. It was too busy for me to do my job well. Or even poorly. It was going badly. I lost all control over my tables. And there was no getting it back.

Then I cut my finger.

The whole club was out of kilter because of this party. And especially because there were caterers present. As the caterers needed any extra space there was in the club as staging areas. So everything was wrong, and everyone, as busy as they were, were doing things they normally wouldn't be doing. In areas they wouldn't normally be doing them. For instance, I was cutting limes and lemons in an area that can only be described as outside, near the dumpster. This is an area I've never worked in before. An area reserved for delivery trucks. Crime. And probably hookers. This was were I was cutting my fruit. Because my bar-back was in the storage room doing dishes for the caterers (in what was THE MOST makeshift sink I've ever seen). Which led to my bouncer taking orders for me. Which naturally led to me bar-backing for the main bar. As well, the waitresses on the main floor were doing security checks. And I saw the DJ restocking beer. It was a mess.

All I needed was one slice of lime.

I had already laughed earlier in the night, when my bouncer went outside to cut a lemon, and came back with just the one slice. But I wound up doing the same thing about forty times. There just was no time to worry about future slices. So, I went outside to again slice a lime and the knife went clean through my finger.

Several things went through my mind:

cut=bad>sharp industrial strength knife+finger=not OK>emergency>go to hospital=(embarrassing)x(no time)+waiting people=angry people>blood>shock>swear word>cry

also

(envy of lesser problems of just a moment ago) x (magical thinking)
= brief second of believing I can undo cut. Just go back and not cut my finger.

Then I went into denial/damage control. And proceeded to the bandage area, with a bunch of saturated cocktail napkins wrapped around my hand. And I was afraid to look at my finger because I was afraid it was gone.

(PS finger condoms: not embarrassing)

So, I was having a bad week work wise. Then my sister-in-law, called me back and asked me if I'd like to come in next week for two weeks. This is a real gig. A design job. She is amazing. She will train me. Show me the ropes. That kind of thing. She says she wants to see if I like it there. Hopefully they will like me/my work. I'm going to be working a lot during this period. And it might be a while before they need someone permanently. But this is a great turn of events. I want to send my sister-in-law flowers. Or pizzas. Or cashmere sweater sets. I don't know how to begin to thank her.

And this makes me happy.