Brief UpdateJust a quick note... I'm still trying to post every other day, but I'm not going to have time today to do any coherent writing at work (where I do much of my writing, as a relief from more tedious tasks), and I will be at work fairly late. And that last post wasn't the sort of thought-provoking essay that one leaves at the top of the page for more than two days. This one won't be, either.
We have two huge projects going on at once, a newsletter and an election: the former required a good deal of word processing and then about nine hours of printing (having to empty the tray every twenty-three copies, on average of every eleven minutes barring misfeeds, for 1400 copies total); the latter required a complete overhauling update of the database, checking the hundreds and hundreds of computer records against the sheets and sheets of printed payroll registers we get from the district (about eight hours of mind-numbing tedium), then printing up four sets of 600 mailing labels, and now we get to affix the labels to 1200 envelopes and stuff the six hundred #9 envelopes (along with a ballot and instruction) into the six hundred #10 envelopes, then run them through the postage meter and schlep them down to the Post Office.
Adding to the general confusion of it all, one of my coworkers is out sick and the boss left town for the weekend last night. The phones continue to ring, and people come to the door, and there were errands to run (I ordered the wrong kind of paper and had to make two extra trips to the paper store before I could start my print job) and finished newsletters to deliver to various locations, and one has to eat and eliminate and what-have-you. On the other hand, my body chose to have a manic episode, so I'm able to do yeoman's work without feeling unnecessarily depleted.
If I project today's work hours correctly (I have to leave in about twenty minutes to distribute newsletters, and will probably sit down with the envelopes and my specially-hired helper-for-the-day at about eleven, Caroline will be joining us about five-thirty, and I want to be done by eight), it's going to be another ten-hour day. I worked ten and a half hours yesterday, and seven and a half on Monday, so I'm already halfway through next week as far as hours go. Since I don't get paid overtime, being allowed (and guaranteed) sixty hours per pay period, something tells me that I'm not going to be turning up in the office at (or anywhere near) ten a.m. next week.
I'm sure everyone is terribly fascinated with my boring job.
It would be nice if this manic episode would last through the long weekend. My district celebrates Lincoln's Birthday as well as President's Day (no particular political reason, just because we needed another holiday in the Spring semester and they haven't quite been sold on César Chavez's birthday), so I am off work from Friday to Monday. I intend to use this extra free time, apart from getting my and the Grandmother's nails done on Friday and appearing in the RGDC King & Queen of Hearts Show on Saturday, working in my room.
All these days together can't be ignored, can't be slept through, can't be thrown away on trifling time-wasters. This damned room must be put together somehow or other. I must see my carpet, I must get my clothes put away (and weeded out, natch), I must make the furniture and things flow properly so I can be comfortable in my own room. Messieurs les Présidents are a perfect opportunity to get this enormous load taken care of.
So if you don't hear from me this weekend, you'll know what I'll be doing. Pray for me, my darlings.
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