Archive for records

okay, so it’s not 33 1/3, it’s turned up to 78 speed

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on June 25, 2008 by scentedwench

That overused phrase about being as busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest kind of landed on my head like a piano falling out of the sky, yesterday.

Busy much?

Everything was at standard 33 1/3 rpm during the Mercury retrograde, I felt kind of like some strange slow motion thing happening in the external sense, where I had infinite time (and it was normal-paced) in the internal sense.  I got a ton of stuff done and had plenty of time in which to do it.

Monday morning I started wondering if someone had put the record on, but switched the speed to 45.  Okay, so it’s Beethoven’s 6th Symphony, the opening strains.   Orderly, a bit twee but who cares and why be cynical.  But a minute into it, I’m listening to something straight out of the Looney Tunes music archive (Carl Stalling was a genius); everything is sped up, and I’m panting to keep up.

Well, this morning, the symphony is now thoroughly a silly symphony and is turned up to 78
(uh oh, this is where I confess to playing my grandma’s 78 records on a console record player – I guess I’m dating myself; just call me an old 36 who still owns records…)

I have to do the following today:
create a press kit (well, edit the one I have)
take more product photos
finish trying some blends from an experimental group, and then review all of them
a focus group
mail some orders
pack and mail some more orders
maybe fix my bike, again
update my site

That’s after my regular job.

The cats watched me fly around the house this morning.

“Do you think she’s going to feed us NOW?” chitters the little one to the big one.
“I dunno”, chirps the big one.  “Let’s follow her around to remind her to feed us.”
“Yes! And I’ll find something crackly to chew on to get her attention before we start following her!” squeaks the little one.

So I had an entourage for an hour this morning.  And they didn’t quit shadowing me after I fed them.  When I took a moment to clean the litterbox, they were waiting right there to bury treasure in the thing.  Thanks, kids.  When I tripped over my own feet hauling out the bike and dropped my helmet, they were right there behind me waiting to almost get stepped on.  “HISSSSS!  SPIT!” sputters the little one.

I just want to make perfumes and get on with my life.   It’s hard to just do that this week.