Yet another affirmation that Thursday is NOT my day.
I woke up this morning groggy and irritated by the beeping of the alarm, buried my head under the pile of pillows that is, most nights, my bed partner, and wished I could just turn the day off. I should have stayed in bed.
My driving skills left something to desire and my eyes would barely open wide enough to see the road ahead. And I know I was doomed.
The work was piling up as my supervisor tried to explain to me that, not only is it my job to do regular stuff like manage calendars and meetings and whatnot, it is also my job to wipe the 50 year-old asses of the doctors for which I work. I had no idea.
The class scheduled for this afternoon could have been titled “an hour and a half of your life you will never get back”. And I fantasized about naptime in preschool. If I’d only had a mat.
Thirty minutes before I was supposed to leave, I was given a million pages of correspondence to log, copy, check, and mail. I stayed an hour later and cursed Thursday all the way home.
I only had one beer in the fridge when I got home.
I should have stayed in bed.
Lucky, I took tomorrow off…Don’t try to contact me, I’ll be in bed.
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