Sunday, October 24, 2004
Things I Bring Upon Myself

This morning I am obsessed with chairs. Not just any chairs, either, but portable folding chairs that have to be borrowed from other sources. Chairs that, if I had my shit even remotely together, I'd have realized needed to be dealt with long before 4 AM this morning, which is when I awoke to find the sudden realization that I need 40 folding chairs by 9 AM tomorrow buzzing around inside my head.

40 folding chairs have already been lined up; it's the dates that fell by the wayside. I was supposed to contact the man about the chairs and confirm the dates. And I hadn't forgotten -- I had it down in my notebook and everything -- it was just that I forgot about Sunday.

Sunday has always been a concept with which I am less than completely comfortable. It probably has something to do with the fact that I'm not a church-goer or a sabbath-keeper, combined with the fact that I'm not an office-hours job-worker. The whole weekend thing just isn't a major concept for me... I live and subsist day-to-day, I take a day off when I want one, and usually it's no big deal. In a city like Memphis, as sucky as it is, one can find just about anything one needs at any time of the day or night... at least as long as one doesn't mind driving 15 or 20 miles (at worst) to get it.

But, if you didn't know already... I ain't in Memphis.

In this small-ish southern town, I can in no way rely upon anything at all being available on a Sunday. Nobody will be in their offices to help me with my pathetic little emergency today. The guy I needed to call about the chairs will probably be at home watching a football game or something. And who can blame him?

But the fact remains that at 10 AM tomorrow morning, 30-some-odd lazy festival-goers will be coming to a workshop and looking for a place to set their butts down, and it seems that much of the rest of my day will be spent trying to accomodate them and their weary asses.

It's really only my own fault. I brought this on myself.

Where the fuck do I find 40 free folding chairs on a Sunday?

I was hoping to sleep in a little this morning -- it's the last day in which I can conceivably get more than, oh, six hours of sleep per night for the next week, and I wanted to make use of it -- but once I awoke at 4 AM and thought about the goddamn chairs, and realized that if I was to have any chance at all of success I'd need to start first fucking thing (anybody whom I do manage to contact will almost certainly leave their offices by noon), and it wasn't like I was going to get any more sleep last night. So I'm running on three hours of sleep today.

Why do I do this?

Anyway, it's 8 AM... time to get started.

Update: In the end, it turned out to be just one of those things. Yesterday the Chair Crisis seemed like a manageable task; at 4 AM it suddenly looked more like my certain doom. This morning it was a major stress-inducer, and by this afternoon I'm wondering why I was so worried. I forgot about the counter-balance to small-town Sundays: in small towns, everyone knows everyone else. The volunteer co-ordinator is friends with the convention center head of security; I called him and he called the general manager; the general manager called the office and said we could come over in the morning and pick up the chairs anytime it was convenient for us.

So, crisis averted, along with a few other fires that seemed terrfying at first and eventually proved to be utterly harmless. This is how film festivals always go, I guess.
7:40 AM ::
Amy :: permalink
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