Great band name, hm? It's been keeping me from sleeping these last couple of days.
I'm a mess right now, as a result.
A year ago today I could barely get off the couch as I recovered from endometriosis surgery. This week I have been coordinating and serving dinner for 130, 5 out of 7 nights, for the high-school musical's Tech Week. It's a tradition at school to get all the actors, crew, and musicians together for dinner an hour before rehearsal begins during that last week of rehearsals before opening night. It's fun. And it's exhausting.
I have had a lot of help; about 18 people volunteer each night to help set up, serve and clean up. But the vanload of paper supplies and other items is all mine, every night.
I'm surviving right now with the help of caffeine, Advil, and my heating pad. I have to say, the physical work is taking its toll, and I come home sore every single night--despite all the helpers. It's nothing like the pain I was in before the surgery; well, it's in the same place, but it's not as intense. (I'm not worried about the pain. I'm working muscles that haven't been worked too hard in quite a while, and I'm seriously out of shape.)
And then my inner cynic gets going. This is one of those jobs that needs to get done but nobody wants to do. It's work, but it's not terrible. People are thanking me up, down and sideways for doing this job, and after a while I start to wonder: "Am I doing that good a job, or are they just happy that they don't have to be the one to do it?"
Does it really matter?
I just smile and say I couldn't do it without all the helpers, because that's true. It takes a village to serve 130 people dinner every night.
It's a pleasure, even with the pain and the fatigue. I've met a bunch of nice parents, gotten my fix of polite high-school students, staff and alumni, and tasted some amazing salads and cookies.
Tonight I will enjoy the night off and laugh with some friends--and, hopefully, get a good night's sleep.