Today was bad at work. Very bad. Bad in the sense of not having a moment to spare to use the toilet or take a lunch or even crack a joke. Normally, Fridays are the sort of day where I decide what not to do next since I have at least ten things that need my immediate attention. Prioritizing on the fly our specialty, you betcha. Today, however, was one major crisis after another. At one point I had two clients at airport counters trying to get on planes with incorrect tickets, callbacks to three foreign hotels that absolutely had to be made before Europe closed for the evening, a pile of 28 tickets to be broken down and put together on my desk prior to leaving for the weekend, all five phone lines ringing, and a client walking in the door to have her complicated ticket exchanges completed asap. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't remember how.

Thank god I'm going on vacation for two days. Sure, two days may not sound like a hedonistic foray, but I'll enjoy every lazy minute. I'm flying down tomorrow to Palm Springs to see my folks. I love Palm Springs the way I love Las Vegas: I couldn't live there but it's the next best thing to vacationing on another planet. I'll be flying Air Tomato Crate (I think the aircraft is a 19-seater). I paid full fare so I can wear any damn thing I want to. This is a genuine pleasure after having to dress in business clothes for most of my flights in the last seven years (traveling on agent fares involves dress codes, did you know that?). It will be pleasant to see my dad and his wife in more ways than one. They don't have a computer. If the phone rings it won't be for me. And they don't care if I don't want to do anything more stressful than peel an orange out by the jacuzzi.

Actually, my vacation had completely slipped my mind until this week. At Potlatch I ran around inviting people to our Superbowl Sunday party. It was my idea to have a few hardy Packers fans keep John company while I hid out in the living room, well away from the tv room. Otherwise, I figured, I'd have to keep him company and muster enthusiasm for a game I find incomprehensible. They'd eat, they'd drink beer, they'd argue with the refs, and they'd have a splendid time while I spent some guilt-free hours on the computer chatting online. It wasn't until Sunday evening that John reminded me I would be out of town during the party. Whoopsie, I said, and promised to organize the food before I left, which I have done. No one goes unfed when I'm giving the party, that's for sure. I have a horror of people not getting enough to eat (Good Hostess Fear #3) which in the past has led to things like 14 kinds of cheesecake and enough lasagne to feed an army. Anyway, they'll be fine and I -- will be in Palm Springs watching the Superbowl with my folks. Damn.

Oh, well. There'll be plenty of time afterwards for peeling that orange and dabbling my toes in the jacuzzi. Have a good weekend, everyone.