Arg — this week dragged itself through the muckiest part of the River Styx just so it could cling around my neck with its gripping, crushing, slimy tentacles.
OK, now I’m done with the metaphysical conceit part of this post.
My boss, Margaret, was racking up the vacation hours again, so she and her husband took a nice little winter jaunt to Florida. That’s terrific for her, not so fun for me, because when she’s gone, I have to do both her job and mine. And she often works ten hours a day just doing her job.
I started Monday with a minor nut-out about a year-end project that nobody seemed to know how to handle, and that kind of set the tone for the rest of the week. Actually, I think it made everyone feel sorry for me and want to treat me very nicely, because the rest of the week went fairly well. We had some really good stories in the section, and even one on A1. And I’m going to get a fat check next week because it’ll have all of my overtime hours on it.
So, to treat myself after getting through the week with my sanity (nearly) intact, I’m planning on going snowboarding tomorrow at Mount Baker — that is, if I can drag myself out of bed.
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