Dear weather: make up your goddam mind. I’m okay with forty degrees and slushy. I’m okay with snowing baseballs. I’m even okay with hurt your knuckles freezing. What I’m not okay with is going from nineteen, to forty, to snowing baseballs, to ten, and back up to forty in the course of a week. I’m pretty sure we’ve experienced seven seasons in four days. There’s even a spot over in Douglas where they’ve got mud season from back east. On a scale of one to ten, this has been effing ridiculous.
Now that that’s out of the way, on to business. Does anyone else feel a little bit like Dumbledore? Besides the epic beard and the pet phoenix and living in a castle parts, naturally. But the stretched beyond reason and juggling about twelve different things and trying to save the world, that part I feel like.
Except saving the world. I’m not that dedicated.
I’ll start with work. Normally I like my job just fine—pays pretty sweet and I get to go home with a warm and fizzy feeling. The boss is even cool enough to pretty much totally revamp my schedule when I ask her to. Came in handy when finals week came around.
This week…not so much. On call cell called me nine times in four days. Granted, five of those times was because I left my phone in my pants, but still, that’s more than I’d like. This wouldn’t be so bad if I was physically capable of saying no, but I’m not, so it is.
Picked up an extra eight hours Thursday, a twenty-four hour shift on Friday/Saturday, and another five hours on Sunday. Sleep is not something that’s come in ready supply this week. Wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up with an owl pecking at my window asking if I could, please, just work a few dozen hours today.
Next up is school, which isn’t any more demanding than it is for everybody else, but it is school, and Dumbledore lives in a school, so that’s my connection there.
What is actually stressing me most at this particular moment are those fleeting moments where I’m not stressing about anything. If you understood that, I’ll buy you a cookie. Well, not really, but I’ll help you eat it. I know you know what I mean though—when you’ve got about nine thousand things to do in the next three days, are clearly not going to get them all done, and are totally okay with that.
Last week it was a reading assignment for the Zombie class, which is a crying shame, because it was a damn awesome read. At least from the part I got through. As a random sidenote: I am Legend is infinitely inferior to I am Legend. This week was paperwork, which is going to come back and give me rabies snakebite to the ass, considering I don’t get paid until it gets done.
Is there a magic focus on all the crap you’ve gotta do until it’s done button that Dumbledore apparently whips out whenever a plot needs finishing? I could seriously use one.
This was my last Harry Potter reference of the term. I swear to Stanley.