I’m about to rename the Cindy squirts to simply the work squirts. The less I think about her, the happier I am.
Maybe I ate too much seafood in the Keys.
Or maybe it’s nerves about returning to work after about a month away.
Could be that kickass Christmas dinner I cooked a day late, too.
In any event, when our heroine last signed into her work computer, she had five projects to finish before month-end.
Two of those projects require so many meetings and discussions and “no, don’t do it that ways” that I’ve punted the easy part — writing — to now.
It’s complicated and in my absence, people LEARNED that. So they talked about it and appear to have changed their minds about how it should be done anyway.
I guess I’ll see this mess on my performance review. If I make it that long.
I also missed a meeting with our Japan partners last week. I mean, is it really necessary to be up, dressed and on camera for 6 a.m. every Thursday? I drag all day long afterward. Heck, I was even awake for the one I missed. I just happened to be staring at the sunrise.
There were also myriad texts as follow-up to the Terrible Thing to field. I mean, I know I’m lucky to be on vacation and still employed. But Jesus, did anyone think about why I needed a vacation?
Anyway. I need to go pull the cats out of the tree. Again.
Not Cocoa. She’s my good girl.
The topper is more expensive than the tree itself, and it’s about to hit the ground.
So am I, topper. So am I.