I'm Wicked Busy!

How many times and ways can I say it in a day?

I’m buried.
I’m swamped
I’m out straight.
I’m straight out.

In two words, I’m busy.
In three words, I’m wicked busy.

I’m so busy, I rush to bed so I can wake up and start doing stuff again. 

Looking back, I’ve always been busy. But the ‘stuff’ that I’ve been busy with has changed dramatically over the years. Here are some notable things that I am no longer busy with:

Writing my first name with the last name of various boys in school I had crushes on to see how it looks.
Scanning my face in the magnifying mirror each morning looking for new pimples.
Making a list of all the plastic surgery I hope to have done one day because I’m so hideous.
Calling people on the phone just to hear them say “hello” then hanging up on them.
Worrying about what people think of me; even people who don’t know me; even people I know, who I don’t even like.
Making sure I don’t ‘step on a crack and break my mother’s back’ walking down the sidewalk.
Making custom designed school book covers out of brown paper bags.
Waiting for the ice cream truck to drive by as I clenched a sweaty dollar bill in a death grip so I wouldn’t lose it before I could buy a Chippedy-Chocolately ice cream.
Crying when I lost my sweaty dollar bill.
Practicing my dance moves in front of a mirror while singing into a hairbrush with black tights on my head to simulate Cher’s flowing long hair.
Trying desperately to fit in, blend in or fade into the crowd.
Looking for pennies on the sidewalk and running down to the corner store to buy penny candy.
Listening to Casey Kasem’s weekly top 40 countdown on the radio with a notepad and pencil, carefully writing each song down to discuss with my friends later.
Trying to swing so high I’d pull the cement footings out of the playground swing set.
Eating full size, real cream Bismarck from Coffee Time Bake Shop (OK, maybe I still do this every now and then…).
Giving myself a home permanent with always disastrous results, then desperately trying to blow dry it straight again.
Wetting and re-drying my hair over and over again until it come out ‘good enough’.
Staying home ‘sick’ because my hair dryer was broken.
Trying to speed tan my face with album covers covered in tin foil.
Competing in a stare down contest with my brother until one of us cries.
Drinking vanilla Fribbles from Friendly’s in between classes at Salem State.
Watching Creature Double Feature on channel 56 Saturday afternoons.
Dousing myself in Love’s Baby Soft cologne.
Covering my canvas sneakers in so many layers of white shoe polish they would crack like cement.

This partial list of stuff that was super important to me back then is just scratching the surface. So much so, it is amazing I had any time left over to grow up. The truth is, there are some people who- no matter how full their life is- will squeeze more stuff into the small left over spaces, like ‘great stuff’ spray foam fills in cracks.

Clearly, I am one of those people.
And in hindsight, a lot of this really was great stuff.