Kathy Gets a Part in Silverado

Let's eavesdrop on last night's conversation, after I read my "Busy, Busy Girl" blog entry to Kathy when she was on the drive home:

Kathy: "Everyone must be wondering, 'Exactly where is Kathy while Alix is doing all this work?' They probably think I'm sitting in a lawn chair, drinking a Mai Tai, just listening to the radio and waiting for Bonds to hit a home run. Maybe they even imagine I'm staring at the radio while I cheer him on!"

Alix: "Wait, in the first draft, I explained what you were doing. But then I added some other stuff and that part didn't work with the flow, so it got edited out."

Kathy: "So, I'm like Kevin Costner in the Big Chill, lying on the cutting room floor? I have to wait to be offered a part in Silverado to make up for it?"

Alix: "What? Kevin Costner was in Silverado? I don't remember him."

Kathy: "He was the brother. You just don't remember him because Kevin Costner is the same as Elizabeth in Pirates of the Caribbean to you. You have no use for him."

Alix: "That's true. And he does awful voiceover."

So let me tell you what Kathy was doing while I was moving our garage-ly belongings onto the driveway. First off, she was working. She does that a lot. She works at her corporate job and then every night and every weekend, she does more work from home. Sunday was more of the same, only every so often I'd walk by her office coming from the garage, and we'd have this conversation:

Kathy: "Can I help you out there?"

Alix: "NO! I mean, thanks, I'm fine."

But then, at various intervals, she'd come outside to check on me and find me dripping in sweat (lovely visual) and leaning weakly against something cobwebby, while I hyperventilated. She must have known each time that the crazy talk was coming. I'd catch my breath, then begin one of the following outbursts:

"What kind of slacker am I to not have done this already? How long have we lived here and I STILL haven't finished the garage?!? I knew I was useless. I have no idea what to do with anything! I'm just moving it around and there is absolutely no point to it all!"

"Omigod, omigod, OMIGOD. I'm never going to sell all this stuff! I'll put it in a big pile and I'll say I'll get to it and it will be just like last year. I won't get to it and then I will never have a workshop and it will be my own damn fault!"

"This will never work! I will never escape all of this junk and WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

"I knew it, I'm dooooooomed!"

I'm not sure how she stayed patient with this, but she did. Each time, she'd intervene as the voice of reason and verbally guide me back from the cliff of panic. She'd point out how what I did was different than how the garage was before. She'd remind me of all the tasks I do finish. And she'd let me know she had faith that I would get this all done in no time.

That, my friend, is worth far more than carrying a box to me. Had she not been there for that, I would never have been able to finish the job. But with her help, I would snap out of it and return to Super Alix mode, cleaning, sorting, and moving things like nobody's business.

Upon reflection, I'm starting to think that for all that she put up with, she should have gotten a Mai Tai out of the bargain!

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