Florence Gordon and the Art Auction Cluster F*

Cursing is not my standard metier, and I swear I thought of loads more elegant metaphors for working with the Art Auction Committee at Boo's elementary school, but the overriding phrase for the week, as I fielded emails and texts and wrangled unruly mail merge documents and committee members, is cluster fuck.  If the road to hell is paved with the good intentions of committee members, then the net result is nothing other than a cluster fuck.  And a mail merge.

I knew the stress was getting to me when I sat on the sofa at 6:45am on  Thursday speed skimming the last 75 pages of Florence Gordon instead of walking the dog and packing lunch.  I have tried abandoning books that are not working for me, but I end up resenting the time I spent reading the part I did read more than if I just finish the thing, so when I really cannot take a book anymore, I speed skim.  Usually, there are many books waiting on the other side of the last page and I just want to get on to something I like better.  Florence Gordon, by Brian Morton, started out well, peeking in on an aging feminist scholar as she embarks on her swan song memoir before her 75th birthday.  A few chapters in I thought I was in for the Upper West Side version of the small town populated by quirky people genre that I love.  75 pages from the end, I was just annoyed with half the characters and wanted to be done with them, especially since the story was obviously not going to have a satisfying outcome.  So there. 

Finishing up Florence gave me more time to devote to Dropbox, conflicting directives and senseless spreadsheets.  Theoretically, I am now reading the first Her Royal Spyness, by Rhys Bowen.  In reality, I am reminding myself that the art auction will be over after March and it's for a really good cause.  I agreed to be on the auction committee because I wanted a challenging something to do with two kids in school all day and I wanted to have a big role in the school without actually joining the PTA board. Also, the job of changing the sign in front of the school was already taken.