So I'm kind of in hell.
Two events in 24 hours. One in Phoenix. So, yeah.
Tomorrow I have a meeting with a building owner, a huge member of the press corps, a T-shirt guy an hour away, have 50 SICK press bags to stuff, bags to pack and OHHOLYFUCK my flight leaves at 1 p.m. (thought it left at 7).
Wednesday, I walk out of my event at 8, catch to a flight to Vegas exactly one hour later, then to an overbooked flight that I hopehopehope I get on, arrive at 7:15 a.m. Thursday, then full throttle into my Thursday event, where I will be wearing very fabulous, very boldly floral cranky pants. At wholesale credit, so not a complete loss.
And yet, I was driving to a potential client meeting today (which I got--yay!), heading down Mass Ave., I looked to my right at the British Embassy. Outside they were setting up tents for the Queen's arrival.
There were three people outside having what appeared to be a logistics conversation (there were clipboards, there was pointing). They were beyond the gates, in the little front parking lot, yet still relatively close (at least close enough that I could see their faces) all in varying states of trying to look calm but holy shitshitshit the Queen the DAMN Queen is coming.
And then I realized that my job: not so very stressful after all.
P.S. Big Bird: Canary? Discuss amongst yourselves.