Monday's thoughts. Friday's post.
Ever have the feeling that time has contracted into a ball and squeezed itself around you, leaving only your head and legs free while the rest of you goes bowling down a hill at breakneck speed? Yes? No? WTF?
So, Monday started well. The second book of Raised By Wolves finally arrived (not that I've had a chance to read any more of the first one *massive stropping and pouting*) and I went and picked it up from the Post Office before work. When I got to work, one of my colleagues was scrutinising the semi-transparent plastic bag the book was in, before a look of recognition finally dawned on her face. She got all excited because she's read it too! Hee! I couldn't believe it! We are both secret slash fans!
Monday night was the second installment of Fight Club, and was even more awesome than the first. We did our warm up cutting excercises to some good old fashioned industrial music, courtesy of the Aphex Twin (which made the class almost too much fun - my Will has a penchant for doing his sword practise to industrial, so it was all kinds of cool to be actually doing it myself!). I'm head-over-heels with our mad bastard teacher for his insanely awesome taste in music.
Aaaand, then the madness began. This month, work has been getting more and more frenetic. I am just about keeping on top of everything, but I feel like I'm treading water. Everyone there is in exactly the same situation. So, for the last few days I've been getting home later than I normally would, because I've stayed late to finish up the things that need doing for the next day. Luckily, my darling flatmate has been getting home before me this week, and she's had dinner ready for me when I've finally stomped in from work grumbling and reached for the rum bottle before regaling her with the latest round of arsehattery. She even made up this amazing casserole thing, which we have christened 'Pirate Stew', because there is a hefty dose of rum in it. I'll have to get the recipe from her (though it's one of those, 'throw in a bit of this and a bit of that' sort of things, which is as it should be) because it is truly a thing of gastronomic beauty.
I've tried to do other things in the evenings this week, like writing, like washing, and even the odd bit of present-wrapping. But to be honest, even watching TV has been an effort, because my body has had other ideas. If I've gone into my room for anything, I have gravitated inexorably towards the bed, and my body is all like, 'You Sleep Now, Bitch!' *slammed pillowards*
'But I have stuff I need to do!'
'Get In Bed!' *bed is obligingly welcoming*
'No! There's cards to write, and I need to order more presents so they arrive through the post on time, and...' *Body is already snuggling into the damned strumpet bed*
*Fatal eyelid error*
*Sleep mode engaged*
Bleh. I suppose this is payback for the last couple of months where I only slept for about three/four hours a night.
This morning, I set my alarm for 6.30, got up, put hair dye on my woefully greying hair (Damned stupid genes of early-onset greyness. I wouldn't mind if I had one of those cool Anne Bancroft white streaks, but the grey is quite evenly and boringly distributed over my entire head.), packed my bag to go away (yes, AGAIN XD), and started on the heap of Christmas cards I need to dole out at work. It's our Christmas party today, which is made of fucking awesome because we go to a fantastic Greek restaurant that our family have been going to since it opened. The owner came from the same village as my dad, so yeah, it's all talk about the old country. The food is amazing. We go there every year, and have a meze, which means that by the end of the three hour feast, we are rolling around in a portly manner like something out of the Cypriot equivalent of a Hogarth engraving. Aaand, once we're finished, I then have to navigate my way to Waterloo to get the train. I shall have to go easy on the liquor. Jack might be able to wobble his way round without running aground, but I fear I may end up in Sheffield instead of Sherborne if I overindulge (not even remotely close to each other).
Oh, speaking of CJS - did anyone else notice that other than the two little tots of what I assume must be brandy that he pretty much inhaled in Beckett's office, he spent the entirety of AWE sober? No wonder he was seeing visions. Ouch. Baaaad DTs.
In case I don't get a chance to say it before I toddle off, see you on the other side of the weekend. Hope you all have a great one!
So, Monday started well. The second book of Raised By Wolves finally arrived (not that I've had a chance to read any more of the first one *massive stropping and pouting*) and I went and picked it up from the Post Office before work. When I got to work, one of my colleagues was scrutinising the semi-transparent plastic bag the book was in, before a look of recognition finally dawned on her face. She got all excited because she's read it too! Hee! I couldn't believe it! We are both secret slash fans!
Monday night was the second installment of Fight Club, and was even more awesome than the first. We did our warm up cutting excercises to some good old fashioned industrial music, courtesy of the Aphex Twin (which made the class almost too much fun - my Will has a penchant for doing his sword practise to industrial, so it was all kinds of cool to be actually doing it myself!). I'm head-over-heels with our mad bastard teacher for his insanely awesome taste in music.
Aaaand, then the madness began. This month, work has been getting more and more frenetic. I am just about keeping on top of everything, but I feel like I'm treading water. Everyone there is in exactly the same situation. So, for the last few days I've been getting home later than I normally would, because I've stayed late to finish up the things that need doing for the next day. Luckily, my darling flatmate has been getting home before me this week, and she's had dinner ready for me when I've finally stomped in from work grumbling and reached for the rum bottle before regaling her with the latest round of arsehattery. She even made up this amazing casserole thing, which we have christened 'Pirate Stew', because there is a hefty dose of rum in it. I'll have to get the recipe from her (though it's one of those, 'throw in a bit of this and a bit of that' sort of things, which is as it should be) because it is truly a thing of gastronomic beauty.
I've tried to do other things in the evenings this week, like writing, like washing, and even the odd bit of present-wrapping. But to be honest, even watching TV has been an effort, because my body has had other ideas. If I've gone into my room for anything, I have gravitated inexorably towards the bed, and my body is all like, 'You Sleep Now, Bitch!' *slammed pillowards*
'But I have stuff I need to do!'
'Get In Bed!' *bed is obligingly welcoming*
'No! There's cards to write, and I need to order more presents so they arrive through the post on time, and...' *Body is already snuggling into the damned strumpet bed*
*Fatal eyelid error*
*Sleep mode engaged*
Bleh. I suppose this is payback for the last couple of months where I only slept for about three/four hours a night.
This morning, I set my alarm for 6.30, got up, put hair dye on my woefully greying hair (Damned stupid genes of early-onset greyness. I wouldn't mind if I had one of those cool Anne Bancroft white streaks, but the grey is quite evenly and boringly distributed over my entire head.), packed my bag to go away (yes, AGAIN XD), and started on the heap of Christmas cards I need to dole out at work. It's our Christmas party today, which is made of fucking awesome because we go to a fantastic Greek restaurant that our family have been going to since it opened. The owner came from the same village as my dad, so yeah, it's all talk about the old country. The food is amazing. We go there every year, and have a meze, which means that by the end of the three hour feast, we are rolling around in a portly manner like something out of the Cypriot equivalent of a Hogarth engraving. Aaand, once we're finished, I then have to navigate my way to Waterloo to get the train. I shall have to go easy on the liquor. Jack might be able to wobble his way round without running aground, but I fear I may end up in Sheffield instead of Sherborne if I overindulge (not even remotely close to each other).
Oh, speaking of CJS - did anyone else notice that other than the two little tots of what I assume must be brandy that he pretty much inhaled in Beckett's office, he spent the entirety of AWE sober? No wonder he was seeing visions. Ouch. Baaaad DTs.
In case I don't get a chance to say it before I toddle off, see you on the other side of the weekend. Hope you all have a great one!