I was up well past three in the morning last night, reading cookbooks and washing my new cookware and planning recipes for the next three weeks, so it would have been a good morning to sleep in. That being impossible, it could still have been a good morning, if only.
Alas, it was not to be. Luck wasn't on my side, and the phone started ringing before my eyelids were completely unsealed. "Did you get the two sheets I just faxed you?" Oh, is that what this blurry paper coming out of the fax machine is? "Can you read it?" Can you call back in an hour?
And it was like that all day. I was working for three different people, the Boss himself, his ne'er-do-well son Tim, and his pushy squeeze Julie. They had me going in three different directions, which didn't leave much of me for the tasks I'd put off for today myself. I hope I made them all happy, because they all made me cheerfully wretched, along with throwing me even further behind.
What can I say when the Boss asks, "Am I making more work for you?" Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Wasn't that what you were going for?
When the calls and faxes stopped at six o'clock tonight, I was kind of stunned. I know none of the projects I worked on today is anywhere near complete. For a while I waited for the other ten-ton lead boot to drop, but so far it hasn't. That doesn't mean my Saturday will be peaceful, but I'm hoping it is, if only to give me a chance to do my own work (what I call my real work) that I've been putting off all week.