Did anybody else suffer grandiose visions when they were children, or was that just me?
In the middle of my second grade year, my grandparents spontaneously took my brother and me to Disneyland.
One Sunday evening, Angel and Pop (those are my grandparents--don't ask) were at our house visiting. They started talking with my parents about the possibility of having us for the week of Easter Vacation and taking us to the Happiest Place on Earth.
As the conversation progressed, the decision was made that instead of waiting until Easter Vacation, we would leave the next morning. This is how, without any notice whatsoever, my brother and I found ourselves packing our bags in order to drive to sunny SoCal and meet Mickey and the gang--smack dab in the middle of the school year !
And here is where the delusions of grandeur come in: Somehow, I had it in my head that my lacking presence in the second grade would be so mourned that when I returned on the following Monday, there would be cheering and confetti and probably a party. I might even be lifted on shoulders and paraded around the room. I was, after all, the second smartest kid in the class, the most athletic girl and was friends with pretty much everybody. Or so I saw it : )
Today is Monday and I'm writing a blog post. I am not at work. I am too sick to do my job.
I have worked every single Monday in the last year and a half. And Mondays are tough. Mondays are challenging. The Monday Morning Assistant [me] juggles four major tasks (and a handful of lesser ones) all at once. And gracefully, if she can : ) When faced with what tasks to do and in which order on Monday mornings, I think of it as performing triage. Because what I do is just that important!
I'm pretty sure they're missing me--and my graceful juggling--terribly today. And hoping that I'm never sick again on a Monday morning. I imagine that whoever is working in my place today is a mess and is flustered and is wondering out loud, "How does she do all this? And so gracefully?"
Yeah. That's what my replacement is thinking.
And when I return on Wednesday, still a little pale and weak, but a team player to the end, there will be cheering and confetti and probably a party. I might even be lifted on shoulders and paraded around the room . . .