I forgot. I completely forgot. There's a gorgeous new arts center here in Central Ohio -- the McConnell Arts Center, in Worthington -- that is hosting a Meet the Author Reception for me tonight. The man in charge of the literary arts portion of the center saw an article about me in the Columbus Dispatch, called me and asked if I'd like to participate in this. This was back in late June, and the only thing I could think at the time was, "Are you serious?!?!? I'd LOVE it!!" Much private hooting and cheering ensued because, as I've said before, I was raised Episcopalian, and Episcopalians do not hoot and cheer. Not even at sporting events. Episcopalians are the ones in the stands clapping respectfully, saying, "Well done. Well done, indeed." For both sides, by the way.
I believe I said, "I would love to participate in this. Thank you very much."
So it was and remains a lovely and generous offer, and I keep saying to my husband and friends, "Shouldn't I be paying them five hundred dollars to do this?" But, no, they're hosting this event to promote the center, my book and the literary arts in Central Ohio all at the same time. I am overwhelmed and grateful to be a part of it. However . . .
There's always a however, isn't there?
However, the event includes a reading. My reading. Me. At a microphone. Reading. Out loud. In front of people. People looking at me. Not my favorite thing in the world to do. High on the list, actually, of my least favorite things to do and one of the only ones that doesn't involve small children's birthday parties, bugs or body fluids. The result -- anxiety. My old, familiar friend. And in my entirely anxious -- Why Did I Agree to This and How Can I Get Out of It -- state, I've become entirely unfocused on everything but the source of my anxiety, which is encapsulated in one, vivid mental picture of a microphone. And this is why I forgot about Monday's RQ, and going to the post office, and calling three friends back, and sending a fax, and making dinner last night.
I should be sane again by Thursday afternoon.