A Day in the Life of Lily-Beth

5:40am: Alarm goes off. Dogs go crazy. Hit snooze, barricade self with pillows against dogs.

5:50am: Alarm goes off again. Dogs continue to go crazy. Hit snooze, re-enforce barricade, and keep one eye open.

6:00am: Alarm goes off. Execute “tuck and roll” military manuever and spring out of bed and into shower, before dogs know what hits them. Lock dogs out of bathroom. Let Jack fend for himself.

6:15am: Spring from bathroom, fully dried and robed, to try and beat dogs down the stairs before they trip and kill me. Head straight for back door, open, enacting Phase 1 of puppy feeding in which a stampede of dogs witlessly runs outside before they realize “Hey, we’re outside – what about breakf – SLAM.”

6:17am: Execute Phase 2 of puppy feeding while dogs bark outside to be let in. Requires balancing three bowls and hitting coffee maker.

6:18am: Unlease the hounds. Sentry duty to make sure beagle doesn’t run schnauzer off from food. Make sure shepherd doesn’t run beagle off from food. Tap foot in front of the coffee maker.

6:20am: Coffee and dogs secure, unlease hounds outside once more to secure the perimeter and leave dog door open to let them fend for themselves.

6:25am: Establish self in favorite armchair with coffee and Macbook. Spend 15 minutes smoking, drinking coffee, and checking work email. Crises that have happened in the night: six.

6:28am: Check clock. Too early to make phone calls dealing with crises. Start leaving voicemails on appropriate work phones instead. Damage control by email.

6:40am: Moisturize face and legs. Check personal email. Write weekly update to the girls. Check bank statements and pay bills as needed. Ignore email from Mama pleading for me to pluck my eyebrows after she’s seen my most recent photo.

6:55am: Retire to vanity in bedroom. Affix hair into “don’t fuck with me, fellas” bun high on head. Iron dress. Debate pantyhose – it’s very cold outside. Settle on “yes” to pantyhose, then promptly tear giant hole in last pair with rings on right hand. Curse self and discard in trashcan.

7:10am: Commence makeup application. Curse crooked eyeliner; it’s too early in the morning. Start over. Eye Jack in bed, enviously.

7:12am: Dogs return. Assist schanuzer and beagle back into bed, where they will suck up to Jack like octopi for warmth. Continue looking on enviously.

7:20am: Dress. Look for good black high heels. Where are good black high heels? Shit. Settle for mediocre black high heels.

7:27am: Flounder around in purse for car keys. Where are car keys?

7:30am: Emerge victorious from house. Start car, requiring un-expected five minutes to de-ice. Damn it. Forgot snow boots. Too old for this bullshit.

7:35am: Roar off triumphantly towards breakfast destination, where catering will be secured for breakfast meeting.

7:45am: Argue with catering about order. Show receipt. Argue some more. Point to invoice hanging up behind them. Load catering into car, victorious.

8:00am: Arrive at work. Set up breakfast meeting. Curse coffee maker when I accidentally double-push tempermental “On” button, causing coffee to explode all over floor.

8:12am: Sit on on Finance meeting. Report requisite financials.

8:50am: Leave Finance early to set up for State of the Company address.

9:00am: Commence company address. Smack down anyone who gripes about the quality of coffee cake. Remind them that coffee cake is a privilege, and also, where is their monthly revenue report? Coffee cake revolution subdued.

10:15am: Slip into demonstration of new ticketing software. Start calculating necessary expenses for software in head. Become physically ill. Slip out.

10:47am: Make it to private office for first time this morning. Answer panicked emails and phone calls. Never realized how much working in the non-profit world is like working in the stock market in 1929.

11:34am: Eat half a cinnamon roll left over from breakfast pastries. Another cup of coffee.

12:15pm: Poke head out of office door. Demand reports from departments with which voicemails were left at 6:28am. Get nothing.

12:49pm: Eat remaining half of cinnamon roll. Retire to car in parking lot with best friend for two cigarettes, i.e., lunch.

1:16pm: Meet CEO in hallway; exert best smile and damage control maneuvers even though you’re not exactly sure what she’s panicked about because she’s not so good with…words. Wonder what the hell an “acoloid” is – did she mean “accolade?” Is it like approval but in tablet-form?

2:07pm: Commence committee meeting seven minutes late because the chair of the committee has not arrived. Begin without her.

2:42pm: Committee chair rolls in 18 minutes before meeting adjournment, slinging fur coat and Louis Vuitton bag on my chair in spite if the fact that I are sitting in it at the time.

2:43pm: Committee chair attempts to take control of the meeting only to realize she’s not exactly sure what meeting she’s at…

3:06pm: Adjourn meeting and make the rounds to departments looking for reports originally requested at 6:28am and again at 12:15pm. Knock some toddler over in the hallway downstairs and steal his bag of potato chips. (Leave the carrot sticks.)

3:51pm: Can finally start analysis of reports – analysis that was originally demanded by a Board chair at 5:45am with a 5:00pm deadline. Realize he’s not going to understand it without pie charts. Call Finance Director, ask Finance Director if he thinks Board chair understands what “realized income” means. Consensus reached that Board chair does not.

3:33pm: Spend four minute debating what term would be appropriate if explaining “realized income” to a 3rd grader.

3:34pm: Have conversation interrupted by fund raising staff; pop in to CEO office to negotiate argument concerning next season’s rep.

4:12pm: Exchange no less than six phone calls with box office manager to figure out a way to pull necessary ticket data to accompany report from ancient database. Curse lack of funds for new database. Remember ticketing software meeting from 10:15am more fondly.

5:47pm: Finish Board chair report, complete with charts; dash off polite and witty email to accompany it.

5:48pm: Grab coat, already late for – phone rings. Answer phone. It’s Board chair – Board chair is in his car, driving down the highway, but just got my email. Hasn’t looked at requested information or charts but wants me to fill him in verbally.

6:06pm: Dash downstairs, try to make it past the front door, and fail. Reception happening in lobby; chat with Trustees about their child’s school plays, recent vacations.

6:30pm: Stealthily slip out front doors, make mad dash for car.

6:44pm: Arrive at political fund raiser; enter just as speech is starting. Make out donation check while standing, clapping, and simultaneously balancing coat and purse.

6:58pm: Say perfunctory hellos and goodbyes, realize intense hatred for party leaders but love of candidate. Sigh wearily. Slip out door, making another mad dash for the car.

7:16pm: Roll up at professional women’s networking event – realize the door is cash only. Shit. Trek to the ATM in high heels. Curse self for forgetting snow boots. Almost die on ice in crosswalk.

7:35pmpm: Put on absolute best smile, pat down crazy wind-blown hair, reapply lipstick in storefront window reflection. Enter professional women’s networking event.

7:38pm: Have a glass of wine; inconspicuously leave stack of handbills for upcoming performances and ticket sales on bar. Smile real smile to self when women are overheard talking about upcoming performances. Fight way through crowd to talk to executive women on the “short list.”

8:02pm: Eat a handful of cheese cubes while simultaneously shrugging on coat. Slip out door. Do not make mad dash for car after ice-and-crosswalk incident – walk gracefully and slowly, if not a bit tipsily.

8:14pm: CONSTRUCTION TRAFFIC – curse city, self, god, and inanimate objects.

8:20pm: Still in construction traffic. Debate the merits of cranking Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” on stereo. Attempt feminist analysis of Ke$ha. Fail miserably. Compromise by switching to Jay-Z, who is at least openly misogynistic. YEAH. Feel empathy for Jay-Z – I am not a businessman, I am a business, man, so let me HANDLE my BUSINESS, DAMN. I can’t leave rap alone – the game does NEED ME!

8:29pm: Arrive at book club (late), realizing that I remembered homemade cornbread and mac-and-cheese but not actual book for book club.

8:52pm: Eye watch, debate leaving early; do best to ignore arguments childlike conservative arguments about the illegal immigrants stealing the good jobs and how it’s so hard to find a good maid and how the “black people don’t have it that bad.”

9:16pm: Fail at ignoring ridiculous words coming out of women’s mouths and remind them that sexism and racism is part of an inextricable matrix and also, that we’re a bunch of white upper-class women sitting around talking about the African American experience. Realize that while it was funny a month ago, introducing self and husband as “Lily-Beth, card-carrying socialist and Jack, card-carrying pinko commie socialist” is no longer funny.

9:30pm: Slip business card with a hastily-scrawled lunch invitation to the two women that actually agreed with me. Leave.

9:36pm: Back in car. Have feminist debate with self about how much I like these women, and how distressing it is to hear those kinds of arguments coming out of their mouths, and realize how long it’s been since I was forced to associate with anyone with such wildly different viewpoints. Thank god for card-carrying pinko commie socialist husband and friends.

9:40pm: Arrive downtown at birthday celebration for husband’s best friend – cheer goes up at the bar when I enter. Smile real smile for only second time that day; give hugs and kisses to all. Deposit birthday present with rightful owner; husband looks relieved across the bar that I remembered it. Wink at him.

10:56pm: Depart with husband; too tired and too hungry to drive. Leave car in parking garage and hitch a ride with husband to late-night diner.

11:05pm: Have first real meal of the day; catch up with Jack over cigarettes and platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grilled cheese grits. Talk about the healthcare bills in Congress, that interview about Barber and Adagio for Strings on NPR, how the consumer protection plan went into effect today, ticket sale numbers for upcoming performances, and remind him that we have box seats with the Meyers on Saturday night.

12:16pm: Return home; calm dogs down. Slip out of dress and heels. Sit down at Macbook to write.

12:34am: Roll into bed next to husband; attempt to read new book for book club and fail miserably.

12:51am: Wake up in the dark. Realize husband has removed book from where it rested on my chest, straightened quilt, tucked in dogs, and turned off light. Smile quietly to self in dark, then roll over and press face into Jack’s back. Fall asleep while making “to-do” list in head.


2 Responses to “A Day in the Life of Lily-Beth”
  1. Soper says:

    He may be a pinko commie socialist, but does he believe in the moon landing?

    Also, your day makes me tired.

    Also, you need to eat better.

    Also, I just deleted the rest of this because it kinda sounded racist, and although you would know I was totally joking it might come back to get me when I am nominated for the Supreme Court.

    Also, your elephant is in the mail.

    • whatwouldjackiedo says:

      Lily Beth: “Honey, Soper wants to know if you believe in the moon landing.”
      Jack: “Moonpie’s Mom? Wants to know if I personally do? Believe in the moon landing? Well, I think it would be hilarious if it were staged, but yeah. I do.”
      Lily Beth: “That’s your response?”
      Jack: “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stand behind that.”

      Also, yes, I do need to eat better. I also need to not smoke or drink so much, or, you know, sleep, ever. Some people do these things.

      Also, yeah, the whole conversation was kind of racist in a way that will not haunt any of those women at all because they’ll never interact with humans outside their immediate family.


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