Things had been going well. I was catching up on the housework. We were eating at home. I was trying to take it easy with caffeine. We were buying local. We were sticking to an early bed time. We were catching up with each other. I was dutifully mailing pictures to people. We were making plans.
It was a lovely couple of days.
Then we lost yet another proofer at work and the already not-awesome balance was utterly destroyed. I don't know how much overtime I've worked because it doesn't matter. I don't get time and a half. I get accrued leave.......leave I don't get to take.
I do know that I've very nearly worked an entire extra 8 hours this week so far.
And that I'll be staying late tonight.
And that we're behind.
Even my lunch breaks are late.
And I should be working while eating lunch right now instead of telling you this.
And it's all falling apart.
And everyone is cranky.
And I am getting tired of telling Cody I'll be working late without being able to tell him exactly how late because no one can tell me.
Cody is tired of this as well.
I'll be working this weekend--I know that much.
I just don't know which day.
So, will I show up late for a friend's birthday party or will I have to cancel the plans that I made with my parents?
I don't look forward to finding out.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to plow through other people's work.