An Atlas-like burden

Now I know how Atlas felt carrying the unimaginable weight of a planet on his shoulders. My work's annual fundraising gala is tomorrow and the combination of being in charge of the "look and feel" and being completely obsessive-compulsive about details is pulling me toward a self-implosion. If you see on next week's news a story about me shaving my head, getting out of a car without any underwear on, and attacking photographers with an umbrella, you'll know the reason.

For my birthday, Margaret gave me a gift certificate for an hour in a sensory deprivation chamber. I think I'll schedule that for Sunday. I need to turn off the outside world and escape into the blissful utopia that is my mind. Where Diet Pepsi flows in streams and peanut m&m's are the gravel paths. And I've had too much of my opium cough syrup.