Second Shot

It’s not unusual, my being pretty darn lazy at blogging anything.  Except this time, it’s actually because I’ve been busy with work.  Things are coming to a close with my Bentley Priory development project, this Friday being the deadline – and I’m still a few million miles away from saying it’s nearly done.

I’ve never been so stressed out with work like I had a couple of weeks ago; it’s not fun and I guess it’s as close as I’m going to get (or, actually, want to get) to the feeling what some other’s in the office get like.  Friday was good, mind; a chance in the last few weeks to calm it down a little and relax.  Just a bit unfortunate that it was Jason’s leaving drinks, really – who will surely be missed; cheers for everything, Jase – but nonetheless was good.

This next week is going to be a long one, but I get the feeling I won’t mind too much.  It’s been a damn hard and steep learning curve.  Worth it?  Difficult one, that.  Yes, of course, but you just don’t feel like it was worth the effort when every night you have this nagging headache that won’t shift, still with the slight throbbing in the morning.  But, I know what to do next time.  And the next time looks like it might be quite soon.

I’ve also found out that repeating tunes in my head has actually kept me sane this past week, though it might have been something to do with the ever-so-slightly less work.  Kaiser Chiefs’s Retirement and Ben Folds Five’s Lullybye, I thank you both.

Now I’ve got to see how much overtime pay I can get; I doubt I’ll get what I deserve but what-hey.  I’m sounding like a moaning git, now, aren’t I?  Nothing’s changed, then.  I promise I’ll be a bit more lively after next week.  That goes especially to the lady who has to sit opposite me and puts up with my huffing, though I’ve tried to spare everyone by hiding away.  Oh, by the way: monkey pants…

And on a completely unrelated note, we had a family barbeque today.  I ate too much bread, I think, but I couldn’t possibly eat that much meat alone.  Potato salad was lovely, mind, but I always hanker for some kind of sandwich arrangement with barbeque food.  Gosh, that was such a pointless paragraph.

Right, that’s enough of this; I mean, who really wants to read the (internal?) monologue of whinging fuck.

Night night all.