I’m on tenterhooks, in more ways than one.

This past month has been a whirlwind of activity. The day job’s coming close to a production deadline. Add to that a new person going through the process a first time, a not-so-new person who just left to go on maternity leave, a temporary person dropped into the middle of everything, a person-in-charge making an impractical and ill-timed change in the most crucial part of production, and a completely undependable person who doesn’t do her part in the entire process, and you’ve pretty much got a category five level storm of headless chickens.

And that’s just the day job.

My moonlighting activities, I’m thankful to say, are almost as full. Somehow or other, I managed to snag about seven or eight projects, and one by one, I check them off like a happy housewife with a grocery list on aisle five, however still anxious to get to the checkout lane. Never mind that I’ve bought oranges when my list says apples.

But the tenterhooks, ah the tenterhooks. They’re still there, nearly ripping me a new one. I can’t wait for the production to be over at the day job, and I can’t wait to hear from the expecting mother. They were supposed to induce labor on Monday, so I’m sure the baby has seen the light at the end of the—ahem—tunnel. For me, I’ll have seen the light when the baby is born and when I’ve sent off our production files to the printer.

And not until after then will I write any posts that actually make sense to people.

I totally need a vacation.

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