Hallelujah, thank god thank god, I'm off work tomorrow. I initially requested the day off so that I could go to opening day of the Northwest Flower and Garden Show. Little did I know at the time just how badly I'd need a day off just about now.
Work has been especially brutal the last two weeks. Working at top speed and stress and efficiency all week, then working 12+ hours over the weekends, then right back into top speed again on Monday and never quite catching up. It's not usually this bad - just a combination of factors: we're interviewing on my team, it's review time and I'm directly responsible for 13 performance evaluations, we're down a manager in my group, and we're facing bad end-of-cycle deadlines, all hitting at once.
Anyways, I'll survive, but I'm more tired than I've been in months. Brett's feeling it too. We dragged our bedraggled selves to the gym tonight looking and feeling like cat puke, but once there I was pleased to find that karma was smiling upon me at last -- in the midst of all of the ever plentiful, multiple copies of such tintillating read-while-you-workout fare as Golf Digest and Popular Mechanics, there was one -- yes, one -- copy of People on the magazine racks.
I snatched it up, trying not to openly dance a little jig at having found the one non-testosterone magazine in the whole place, and plonked myself down on an exercise bike for 45 minutes. Which is a pretty pathetic workout, really, but it was all I could manage tonight. And now I'm all up to date on what everyone wore to the Golden Globes and how Brad and Jen are handling their separation.
Biking to nowhere while reading People. Such is my Tuesday night.