I left work today at about 7:15pm, I was the second-to-last person left in my office. Well, on my enormous floor. Whatever. The only thing worse than staying that late on a Friday is knowing that you still have so much more shit to do. I was in a two-hour meeting which ended at 6:30, during which I grimly realized that this upcoming Monday would be a repeat of last. All I can think of is how tired I am and how this is exactly the sort of scenario where I'll eff with my recovery and get re-sick. Especially since it's much harder to eat clean when you have less than five minutes to grab something for lunch downstairs (and the salad bar, while magically delicious, takes approximately twenty).
I'm drinking way more coffee because I need to stay awake, though when it's possible, I force myself to run down the six flights of stairs from my floor to the lobby or take a 25-minute walk outside, since those perk me up too. Sometimes, I just don't have that small luxury (again with the damned five minute window to procure something).
I'm feeling much better btw (jinx!); the coughing is now manageable enough that I can spend the majority of my day in meetings (joy!) without freaking out over how I'm going to interrupt and terrify everyone with my coughing fits. This is such a blessed relief, since even if I wanted to, I couldn't get up and go outside for a moment to cough away from the powerpoint presentation (fun!), because our "team" (how I now loathe that word, though not for why you might think) has now expanded AND conference rooms have become even more difficult to come by, meaning that we meet in tiny spaces where sometimes, people are sitting on the floor (!) or even atop filing cabinets (!!) if they aren't lucky enough to find two square feet of space to drag a chair in to. The person who chooses to sit with their back against the door to the room concomitantly prevents my easy escape to bark up a lung AND inspires my claustrophobia-enhanced anxiousness (what if there's a fire?!).
Anyway, the only reason I didn't leave at 10pm is because shops close at 9pm and I had mad errands to run for my big day tomorrow. It's great how one of the biggest pleasures in my life must now be condensed in to a 20-minute dash in to a store where I frantically look about and then buy anything and everything that might work (i.e. five pairs of shoes from 9west, though what I needed was two), since I don't have time to deliberate (though I am still screwing myself time-wise, since I then have to return a bunch of shit). Don't get me wrong-- I'm good at speed shopping (I parked at 8pm, had hit three stores (including one where the line took 15 minutes) by 9, but I think that luxuriously lengthy shopping trips would be an excellent method of relieving stress, since my preferred method, a pedicure, has been impossible to schedule due to my schedule.
So, in preparation for tomorrow I now have two hats, two dresses and five pairs of shoes (though if they hadn't been out of the white espadrilles which I got in "tea" and "black", I'd have six). All so that I may frantically try everything on at the ass-crack o' dawn manana. If I can greet the plumber's cleavage of the day, then I might have a minuscule shot at shoving that much-needed pedicure in my morning (every pair is open-toed, natch). Part of me was a bit awed that I could actually do this, that I could buy all this without looking at prices or worrying if I'd be able to pay for the cable modem, but that's when I had the slightly sinking realization that with great purchasing power, comes sixteen-hour Mondays. It's a trade-off I'd gladly suck it up for, if not relish the challenge of, if I weren't so damned sleepy.
Tomorrow: I get to be a "Pretty Woman" (and no, I'm not taking up prostitution, thanks).
Sunday: I want to have brunch with someone in D.C. but I'm pretty sure I'll have to work.
As for the rest of you, I hope you have a restful and fun weekend, like I had last weekend, when I napped away the hours surrounding one serene interlude spent wandering about the Freer (Smithsonian). I sat and had a latte outside the castle, watching toddlers run shrieking around all the flowers, just enjoying both the breeze and my excellent coffee. What a flawless fin de semana. Anyvay, I'm out like those open-toed, low-heeled mules which were basically a wide band of leather across the top of your foot and not much else. So '98, y'all.
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