July 19, 2002
On Friday at 8AM, I hit 40 hours for last week. Saturday evening, I realized I was darned near close to 60. I finished up testing horribly broken software, stopped at Wendy's and got a frostee (comfort food) and drove home.
My husband knows my comforts, doesn't he? He handed me a bowl of ice cream when I walked through the door, which I had to apologetically hand back. No use in sending myself in a coma. I am willing to handle a blood sugar of 140-150 for a little comfort, but I wasn't keen on going for a 200.
I folded into a chair and honestly, I don't remember much, except that I went to bed exhausted some time well before my husband did.
Yesterday, we got up and cleaned because my friend's husband was coming over with his big ole SUV and taking Mike to get Russell's bunkbed boxes. Yesterday afternoon, we took the kids to the little deli in town for lunch and put Babygirl to bed for her nap. Then we took to constructing said bunk bed. I want to know what it is about that last stupid screw on a monumental project that NEVER works? I finally had to start to discombobulate things to find the hole. Mike and I had our juvenile giggling about finding the hole: ("Isn't that your job, honey? Why do I have to find the hole for you all the time?")
However, after a couple hours of working in a very small space, we got the whole thing put together.
Then Mike showed Russell the fine art of fort-making. Russell found it entertaining to imprison his sister on the bottom bunk by enclosing said bunk with blankets. Of course, it was not an effective deterent to keep her from her three room crime spree of debris, but it deterred her long enough for us to get doors shut to sensitive areas.
We didn't do any other chores. There were dishes, laundry, stuff to be put away, vacuuming, dusting. You name it. We didn't do it. We even went out for dinner at a cheap burger joint. Too damned tired.
After dinner, we watched the sun set, as we do every single night, nearly. Mike and I sat on the porch watching the sun set. This watching was punctuated with the occasional squirt from a watergun as one child or another refueled and nailed us. And we watched the clouds evolve from white, to palest peach, to flame orange, to pink to gray. Mike remarked that one big cloud looked like a griffin. We started counting stars blinking into the night sky, by which time both children were bundled in a yarn afghan, hugging each other on Mike's lap.
I slept fitfully after that, fretting about this project at work. It bothers me that I feel so useless here. It bothers me that most everyone here has mentioned updating their resume, applications to other jobs, etc. I am looking elsewhere, too. Three bosses in three months is just fucking ridiculous and damned near impossible to keep up with.
I wish I could get fired so I could get unemployment and have more time at home. Stargazing by night, gardening by day. I could live with that.
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