"You've done it, Mr. Thompson!"
That line, of course, comes straight from spirited mouth of Seaman Beaumont in the John McTiernan film of Tom Clancy's The Hunt For Red October.
If you knew that already, I love you forever and want to make Connery-quoting babies with you.
But in all seriousness, I have done it--despite my last name being one other than Thompson. Less than thirty minutes ago I completed one of the most ridiculous work periods of my life. It was worse than college, when I had a number of lengthy papers due, several finals to study for, and repertoire I had to teach 10 people individually for a concert that was looming near. It was worse than in high school, when I successfully completed the entirety of my AP English coursework in one weekend. (And yes, it was the last weekend of the year. You didn't even think otherwise, did you?)
For the past two weeks I have been bitching, moaning, wailing, whining, and plain old sulking about the work load I took on in such a short period of time. I decided it would be in my best interests, financially at least, to work my regular 8 hour-a-day teaching job while at the same time shooting, editing and distributing video of children's theater. I have not been a happy camper, especially when dealing with my own actual campers.
I won't get into the unseemly details of this business, because, well, I've already done that. I will, however, just say that on average my workday started at 8:30am and ended around 2am. I know I'm a raving pansy compared to some of you that usually work longer than I did each day, but this is my space and I just don't care for you and your smug senses of superiority.
But today, my friends, today it all came to a spectacular end. Not only did my kids put on a face-melting show this morning, but just minutes ago I also pumped out the 66th and final DVD that I needed to make. Tomorrow I'll finish up camp with a fun, games-only day, drop off a large box of parental pride (in disc format), and then hop on a 6:30 flight to San Francisco to visit my sister, all the while yelling "come on, Big D, fly!"