Lost Marbles

So, I suddenly got appointed "Volunteer Coordinator." By the time this happened, it was sort of late in the game because Charlie was supposed to do it, but he got overloaded with other things, and ran out of time. I was excited about my new responsibility because now I had a title, and I also got a film fest email address (caryn@aafilmfest.org) which sounded rather official and special. Actually, I had wanted to be the volunteer coordinator all along (since I'd volunteered in the past), but had never thought it an option because the job was taken early on. In any case, a chaotic increase in my email correspondence ensued, and I quickly became stressed.

It wasn't until Thursday afternoon that I realized I'd stopped functioning at maximum capacity. (Or, at the very least, the capacity at which I'd been functioning had decreased.) It started when I was sitting on the windowsill in Haven Hall, alternating my glance between a take-home midterm and the bike rack outside. I saw someone walk by that I recognized, and was quick to smile and say hello. I wanted to say his name, but I couldn't quite remember what it was. My first instinct was James, but it could have been David. James. David. James. I decided against including a name in the greeting. He stopped to chit-chat about four feet from where I was sitting. So, I said, did you do the midterm yet?
Oh, he said, I'll leave you alone then.
What?
I thought you said you were working on a test.
Er.
I was going to let you work on it.
Wait. What class are you in with me?
Sweetland?

Ohh. We tutored together every Sunday at the writing center, and it was James. I apologized profusely, trying to dig myself out of the hole I'd created. It was unfortunate for James to have to witness the day that I lost it. Oh well. Sorry, James.