Feb. 11th, 2011

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So, it turns out that working a sixteen-hour day, setting off the office alarm, accidentally locking yourself into the warehouse (without keys, phones, coats, wallets, etc.), stealing a truck, driving to several different houses in the middle of the night in bootless search of someone to give you (a) a copy of your own house key or (b) a sofa to sleep on, parking in your back yard and fitfully and refrigeratedly napping in the stolen truck until you can go back to the office and have someone let you in, going back to the office and having someone let you in, retrieving your things (blessed, blessed things which are going to be stapled to you from now on), going home to feed and walk your poor dogs, showering, dressing, returning to work, and actually working? Quite, quite exhausting.

I hit the wall about three hours ago, and have been sliding bonelessly down it ever since. I haven't actually fallen asleep at my desk yet, but I still have an hour yet to go.

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constance

March 2012

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