You may have noticed, or perhaps not, that I was nowhere to be found most of yesterday and all of last night. I missed more than a few callers, losing a bit of income and maybe even a bit of their loyalty. But I hope not. Because things happen, particularly with me, because I live a ramble-shamble kind of life.

What is a ramble-shamble life and how does one go about getting one?

First of all, a ramble-shamble life means doing things according to your plans and expectations rather than the world’s. It means you come and go as you please. You work when you please. You play when you please. It can be fun, no doubt. It can be liberating and fulfilling. Your more conventional friends sort of see you as a small-time rockstar. But it also takes discipline…or you’d always be playing and never accomplishing anything. And it also can be isolating…no office cooler around which to gather, after all.

Secondly, you have to throw away the rules: Jump out of the box! And because what is human about us prefers the safety of a predictable structure, this is harder to do than one might think. Thus, it follows that — to take plunge into the labrynth of what some might call self-indulgence — there must be a catalyst.

Hey, you didn’t think I was born this way, did you now? I actually had a mainstream job at which I was very successful. And I really didn’t want to leave it. I liked it there, and they liked me. In fact, every time I call to touch base with Rick, the District Supervisor, he always asks me to come back.

But “the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men–gang aft a-gley.” And people you love just gotta mean more to you than any amount of success or money or wordly gobbledy gook. And someone that loved me needed me–so I had my catalyst. Goodbye corporate world; hello cybersex world.

So about yesterday and last night:

Working against a self-imposed editorial deadline, I stayed up all Wednesday night and into Thursday morning putting together my interview notes for an artist profile I am doing for Sex Kitten. I’d conducted two separate interviews, one via the telephone and then another via email. So it was a rather difficult task, merging all that info with other stuff I’d glimmered from his website. I finallly made it to bed around 9 or 10 am and slept for two or three hours.

Which usually works for me…if I don’t do it too often. And I don’t. But I woke up with a terrible headache. So I took two Excedrin. A few hours later, I not only still had the headache, but had developed some kind of weird drowsiness or drowsy weirdness. I couldn’t tell. So I took two more Excedrin. Things didn’t get better. In fact, they seemed even a tad worse.

I tried to watch television, take another nap, start on another interview, read a book, play an on-line game. Hmmm! Still not good. I tried to read another book, put the dishes away, clean off the counter top, put the lid back on the Excedrin bottle….

Oh-oh! This Excedrin bottle wasn’t white; it was blue.

I’d been taking Excedrin PM!

So I added a glass of merlot to the ramble-shamble concoction already tumbling around in my veins and went to bed. Wouldn’t you? I mean, if you were a ramble-shamble sex goddess?

This entry was posted on Friday, April 14th, 2006 at 9:21 am and is filed under Funny Side Up, Rhetorically Yours. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.