it takes two when it used to take one

Contrary to what I had wanted, I am not in New York at the moment. It is cracking me up that I held, for a long time, a position that required me to maintain plans with tricky schedules. It is amazing that I wasn't fired, based on my utter failure to plan anything of late. After fifteen rounds with the movers over the past two days, I think everything is squared away. I suppose all I really know is that they showed up late this afternoon and took the majority of my worldly belongings. Whether they show up on the other side is anyone's guess, and honestly, at this point, I don't really care. I think if my copy of The Little Prince gets to me and nothing else, that might suit me just fine.

Hopefully, I will actually get to New York tomorrow. Hopefully it will not be a flash in the pan, blink and you'll miss it visit like my last one was. But I'm not sure. I must be the most frustrating person on earth right now for others to tolerate, what with my standard, robotic, "Ummmm, I don't know, maybe" response to pretty much everything. I might be in New York. I might have obligations there, I might not. Who knows. I don't know when I became so averse to commitment and scheduling, but that's my current state. And of course, when you act this way, more often than not, you end up alone, because all your plans fall through and it turns out no one wanted to see you in the first place. But I'm not sure I even care. I just need to get out of here. There's oppression in the air that has nothing to do with the thick promise of rain.

Besides all of that, something ridiculous happened today. Something totally and absurdly ridiculous. I'm really starting to wonder if each of my closest friends has lost their precious minds. Today, in the midst of mover madness and watching my plans to go to New York disintegrate, I got a phone call from RR, and now it turns out I have two godchildren. TWO. How did that happen? This time, it was more serious than the last. In fact, the last time now seems like an episode of Punk'd or something, even though I rationally know that it was steeped in significance and all that blah blah blah. RR, on the other hand, just took archery practice on me and flat out said, "Look, if we passed away, you're the only person I'd want to raise my child."

Since when did anyone find me a responsible adult who could take on these kinds of grave responsibilities? Hello? Did you people miss the part where I quit my perfectly good job? Or the part where I hemorrhaged money carousing about Spain for nearly a month? Or how I have a tendency to inhabit crack shacks? Or how I call small children ankle-biters and agree with everyone who says that a Sunday at Target is all the birth control anyone ever needs? And why, when I bring all of this up, do all of my friends laugh and wave it off as if I am being cute? I am not being cute! I don't think I've been cute since I was the age of these suddenly-thrown-into-my-charge godchildren of mine.

If you don't believe, let's go straight to the source:

Me: Moms, you're never going to believe this. RR asked me to be his kid's godmother.
Mom: Why do these people pick YOU? It's so odd.

Oh, and also, please send me any tips about baptisms/christenings/whatever ceremony it is godmothers are responsible for participating in-- being a heathen, I have no clue.