We spent the day proofing copy for the December issue, which ships tomorrow and Friday (and maybe a little on Monday, if we're not good). Despite how simple that may seem, it's not exactly easy to just read and read and read, drawing red circles around silly apostrophes and bad italics.
To an outsider, it might have appeared as though we were mimicking each other's movements. Perhaps it even seemed as though a mirror had been magically raised upwards alongside my body to reflect my motions and thoughts and buying habits.
In the conference room, where I have lunch each day with two of my favorite people in the world (I am very lucky), I found myself tapping my fingers in constant rhythm against the long, veneered table. Why was I doing this?
I received a voicemail from Eileen on Friday night, which said something like: "You missed my phone call again, and I’m here with Sean and Omar and Allison and Justin and Lauren and Scott and Cheryn, and we’re all waiting for you, and you’re lame."