Sore Everything
Monday, 12 March
My arms are sore, especially my left one. Not to mention my legs have been reduced to quivering jelly since yesterday evening... plus I think I'm suffering from sleep deprivation since I stayed up 'til 12 last nght and woke at 6 this morning... my own fault, of course, for watching that DVD, but then again how could I resist? They said it was a comedy...
Hmmm. Might as well get everything straightened out before I forget it all. Well, there was the movie on Saturday. Bridge to Terabithia, if I remember and spell rightly; it was a pretty nice movie, even if all the Coconut seems to think of it is that the girl shouldn't have died. I somewhat like the plot, even though the ending wasn't particularly palatable: too vague for me, and besides there were several plot ends that didn't get tied up at the end. Not a great movie, but not too disappointing.
Personally, I found the nicest part to be the boy's drawing and the girl's storytelling--too bad there was so little of either in the movie. Probably because I like doing both myself... I do like drawing, even if I never managed to populate a whole country before. (Plus most of my drawings are more or less anatomically logical, unlike the boy's. I remember seeing a woman, near the end of the film, who was basically a head mounted on a birdcage. With birds in it. Which I would never have drawn because I wouldn't think it plausible.) And as for writing...! You're reading proof of that, aren't you? And anybody who's ever asked me questions before knows that I can sometimes spin neverending stories out of stuff that even I don't know until I've said it. (Which, by the way, is one of the reasons my family makes sure to only ask me about things they're sure I know.)
...on Sunday, Claus and I went running before the weekly captain's-ball game my church plays. Well, it was my idea, so I take the blame for that one--he's been a bit worried about his weight, it seems, ever since CNY. (And it seems he's worrying about my weight too. Oh well.) And I suppose I've been a bit obsessed with weight for some time too... I suppose the sudden weight gain during RBS didn't do anything to allay the worries. Whatever the cause, we ended up running a couple rounds around the field. (The field is rectangular, surrounded by roads, and on a slope. Consequently one of the roads goes down and one goes up, and the two flat roads are on different levels.)
And you know what? The fears are perfectly well founded. Claus went off jogging, and I managed to keep up while we were on the downward slope. Then we began the upward slope and--this is, you realise, extremely bad for my self-esteem--that's when jogging lost all appeal for me. What became very appealing indeed was a bit of shade cast by a nearby wall. (It was very sunny and very hot. Not a good thing when one is moving.) By the begnning of the second round, Claus had just begun to warm up and I was burnt out. By the end of the second round, my legs were jelly, I was drinking everythng in sight, and I had a stitch in my side (not to mention that I was breathing my throat ragged). And Claus was still running.
(Incidentally, some of the younger kids had just brought some Coke and Mentos to try out the Mentos + Coke = big bang experiment, and they'd got some Coke-Mentos mixture left over. So that's what I was drinking. It doesn't seem to have caused any adverse effects.)
It turned out that my stamina is very, very bad indeed. And next week Claus wants (me) to run 4 rounds. He's planning to run 8 in the same time, I think. God help me--because, I think, more of this and I mght literally collapse. Even now I'm trying to recover from yesterday. Claus appears to have recovered from it in less than two minutes, because he was running and bouncing around like...well, like he usually is during captain's ball.
=.=
And then last night, as I've mentioned, I watched a DVD with the Gorillas, Claus, Jogger, and a bunch of other people. It was called Little Miss Sunshine, and the movie is about a dysfunctional family who's taking the (relatively normal) daughter several states away to compete in the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant (hence the title). I'm not going to worry about spoilers, since it's a relatively old movie and so I'm not detracting from the cinemas' earnings.
See, I am so kind.
Anyway, the family is composed of Olive (the daughter), who's going for the pageant; Richard (the father), who is obsessed with his 9-steps-to-success motivational programme (and I absolutely hated his character); Joanna (the mother--I think that's her name--they generally just call her Mom), who smokes and earns the money for the family (the father is waiting for money to come in from sales of his book on his 9-steps-etc); the grandfather ("Grandpa"), who is apparently hooked on heroin and is sex-crazed into the bargain, as well as constantly spitting expletives at everybody except Olive; Uncle Frank, who's stayng with the family as rehab after a suicide attempt caused when his (male) love interest hooked up with his archrival in Proust, and then the archrival (who was apparently less bright than Uncle) published a best-seller AND was recognised as a genius (while Uncle got fired);and Dwayne (the brother) who's suffering from depression, idolises Nietzsche, and has taken a vow of silence for the last 9 months. Oh, and the car, which outlived its usefulness ages ago, but still is being used.
So they go down, and along the way, Richard gets more and more annoying... excuse me while I rant here.
I intensely dislike motivational talks. They are always vastly too optimistic about the human condition, and what's more they're always so stupidly simplistic. Plus, for some reason, motivational speakers always sound as if they've got a lot too much self-esteem, to put it mildly.
In other words, in my opinion, motvational speakers tend to be idiots with a loudspeaker and too much confidence. Of course there are obvious exceptions, but such they have been in my experience.
Especially the idiot that Loch Yuck kept on inviting just before major exams to pep us up. Listening to him always drove me mad with longing to define "vacuum" as "the space between motivational speakers' ears". Anyway, ever since then I've had an indefinable urge to retch when people come up to me and tell me to do such-and-such to "succeed". Their definition of "succeed" also usually tends to be "get whatever you want", but it's just their way of saying "money"--as is obvious from the kind of advice they tend to give! (Quite often it's stock tips.)
So, put simply, I distrust anybody who says they know how to make me "better", unless they have a definition of "better" that I can accept. Which, I suppose, probably sounds a lot lke arrogance--but seriously, I don't mind most good advice. I do, more often, mind the tone it's given in. And when you add the average motivational speaker to the mix (they're usually too loud and madly enthusiastic about whatever they're talking about) it's a pretty revolting result.
So here you have Uncle Frank the suicidal, Grandpa the foul, Dwayne the silent, Olive the hyperactive, and Mom the smoker. And, of course, that gives Richard plenty of opportunity to get in bits about "Now you see, this is where the 9 steps come in..." or "You see, you're a loser, because my 9 steps say that blah blah blah..." or "Yes! You see! You're practicing steps number 3 to 9 by blah blah blah!"
So they go down to California, getting more stressed by each other every day. (I blame Richard.) And then the turning point is when Grandpa dies from an overdose, which causes Mom to finally admit her love for the family. Apparently that declaration melts everybody's heart, because the next thing you know they're smuggling Grandpa's corpse out of the morgue so they can bury him "at home". (Of course, that's Richard's idea again. You can tell he's a Choleric by his eagerness to break every rule in sight for his own convenience.)
And the next turning point is when Olive and Frank find out that Dwayne is colourblind (on a test that even I could pass!) and therefore unfit to become a pilot (apparently that's Dwayne's dream). Upon which Dwayne screams his first word in 9 months. The F-word--which I find rather amusing. And then more hugging and crying and talking (mercifully Richard keeps his mouth shut) and then more and more turning points occur, until the point where they break every traffic rule for miles just to get to the pageant on time.
Apparently having a death en route rather messes up the schedule.
...anyway... at the pageant's talent contest, Olive stuns everybody. Because Grandpa designed her dance moves, and whaddaya expect from a drug-crazed sex fiend but a... fake strip show? (Bear in mind these are all girls below 12.) So Olive goes out in what looks like a perfectly reasonable suit, with hat, and then proceeds to start taking everything off. (But she's still wearing her swimsuit underneath. Apparently Grandpa did have a little bit of decency left behind.)
My opinion of the movie? It's pretty funny, yes, but a little twisted in others. Also it has some decidedly questionable dialogue about heaven and how one gets there. Plus I wouldn't advise you showing it to little grls below 12. Just in case they (or their grandfathers) get ideas.
I think there's been rather too much speculation on the afterlife lately. It's rather amusing, you know, to listen to all the theories. Especially in movies, where somebody dies and people start wondering whether the dead people went to heaven. Usually somebody asks the question, and the Wise Parent or the Innocent Child (two of the most common stereotypes) say God wouldn't possibly exclude the dead party from heaven, upon which soothing music wafts in from the background and the movie cuts to another scene. (During this time, I'm usually shaking my head in disbelief, but I'm not part of the movie so it doesn't matter.)
It's quite amazing the optimism of the American race. Possibly it's inbred or something into their minds... they seem to have this "gut feeling"--everything in American movies these days seems to be about the gut feelings--they must have quite incredibly bad digestion--that "good people" will go to heaven and "bad people" go somewhere else. And naturally they include themselves under the "good people" category. I only wonder if any of them ever bothered to define "good".
[Tuesday]
I am at the moment dithering between foaming at the mouth or screaming at the computer and jumping on it. You know what I wondered sometime ago about liking accounts? Well, I take it back utterly. I have developed a strong distaste for accounting--which, I suppose, indicates a return to relative sanity where I am concerned. Well, actually I just dslike the disorganisedness of "my" current client, whose auditing is due on the 16th, and I've barely got through half of his first file yet. (He's got 4 of 'em, all fat and bursting with paperwork.)
It's kind of mad, because I'm a very messy person myself. But I'm only that way physically--I assure you I keep my data quite sorted out, mentally at least. And when I can, I do keep quite comprehensive logs of whatever I have to. (Refer to the post where I list my entire room's contents.) But--gah! the company I've been working on for the past day or two has hundreds of invoices and receipts and goods-return forms and goodness knows what, and their handwriting is barely legible on occasion--so is mine, but then I'm not expecting anybody else to read it in the first place--and half the time the receipts refer to invoices that have probably been fed to a shredder somewhere or are buried in files 2, 3, or 4--and how the heck am I supposed to find 'em? Grrrrrrrrr.
And then just now I must've clicked something wrong--not difficult when you're using a touchpad, a mere touch can do all sorts of unwanted things--and all I saw was "five hundred and fifty only" before something got deleted. And there's no Undo function for that. And, of course, 550 bucks isn't a small thing to a small company. I can only hope I'll stumble across it in another receipt or something. (Right now I'm putting little stick-it notes on all the problem receipts. The result is that the file has got about 50% thcker still, if that were possible at all--and it does seem to be.)
And I stll have to finish it by the day after tomorrow, or I can't take Friday off to go see my kid brother... Arrrggggh the stress! I hate hate hate hate beng stressed. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate! (I used copipe for that. Hah!)
But that doesn't change the fact that I'd better get back to work. *sigh*
[Saturday]
Grrr. Why is it that computers and Net connections always seem to die msteriously when I'm around? It's so annoying. Or worse, they just get bogged down in nothing and practically grind to a dead stop, which is worse because then I can't safely restart without risking corruption of some file or other--and with my luck it'll be a very important file that will cause all sorts of problems in the future--and it's not even my own computer.
Bleargh. If you ask me, IE is just too demanding on the system, since it appears to eat and eat the space up like no other program does. Stupid greedy thing. Jams the gears like cold peanut butter but I can't avoid using it because I don't have FireFox... darn it.
I've been rather sickly for the last few days... chasing deadlines is tough. I suppose it's all because I don't want to inconvenience the poor innocent client, but after a few days of reading his handwriting, I'm starting to get the urge to put him on the back shelf and do some other client first.
Because, for one thing, the client writes his receipts in Chinese. And I'm bad at reading that. And for another he doesn't always specify which invoice/s the receipt refers to. And then there's the discounts, goods returned deductions, and goodness knows what else always seems to pop up that change the price. And after all that, I still have to make sure he didn't go and pay a Cash Sale with a cheque. Or vice versa. And there're the part payments to worry about. In short it's a very big mess of an account to do.
And then my brother is back here for the holidays from Singapore, so I wanted to meet him on Thursday... and the deadline for that client was Friday!... so I tried to rush, and ended up doing one file until 2am on Wednesday night. (Well, I was motivated. And yes, I brought the work back home.) And then the next morning I couldn't get out of bed and slept until 12pm... so had to rush some more. In the end I decided to go meet my brother at the Gorillas' and go back to work next morning. (It's a two-hour journey each way.)
And then as things turned out, I got to work the next day looking very pale and sleep-deprived, so had to take ANOTHER nap--the nice thing about working for relatives is that you pretty much have the run of the office and can take naps in the spare room on occasion--and lost another 4 hours of working time. So the poor client still has one and a half files of stuff to be entered into the database and reconciled, and that'll only maybe be done on Tuesday... and two days after that I have another client's files to do too... it's crazy...
Work is mad. And on top of it all I have my mom pressurising me to look for all sorts of school-related stuff, which I simply cannot because there's no Net connection at work... and she seems to think any computer will go online anywhere no matter what as long as I tell it it's for school.
Grrrr.
My arms are sore, especially my left one. Not to mention my legs have been reduced to quivering jelly since yesterday evening... plus I think I'm suffering from sleep deprivation since I stayed up 'til 12 last nght and woke at 6 this morning... my own fault, of course, for watching that DVD, but then again how could I resist? They said it was a comedy...
Hmmm. Might as well get everything straightened out before I forget it all. Well, there was the movie on Saturday. Bridge to Terabithia, if I remember and spell rightly; it was a pretty nice movie, even if all the Coconut seems to think of it is that the girl shouldn't have died. I somewhat like the plot, even though the ending wasn't particularly palatable: too vague for me, and besides there were several plot ends that didn't get tied up at the end. Not a great movie, but not too disappointing.
Personally, I found the nicest part to be the boy's drawing and the girl's storytelling--too bad there was so little of either in the movie. Probably because I like doing both myself... I do like drawing, even if I never managed to populate a whole country before. (Plus most of my drawings are more or less anatomically logical, unlike the boy's. I remember seeing a woman, near the end of the film, who was basically a head mounted on a birdcage. With birds in it. Which I would never have drawn because I wouldn't think it plausible.) And as for writing...! You're reading proof of that, aren't you? And anybody who's ever asked me questions before knows that I can sometimes spin neverending stories out of stuff that even I don't know until I've said it. (Which, by the way, is one of the reasons my family makes sure to only ask me about things they're sure I know.)
...on Sunday, Claus and I went running before the weekly captain's-ball game my church plays. Well, it was my idea, so I take the blame for that one--he's been a bit worried about his weight, it seems, ever since CNY. (And it seems he's worrying about my weight too. Oh well.) And I suppose I've been a bit obsessed with weight for some time too... I suppose the sudden weight gain during RBS didn't do anything to allay the worries. Whatever the cause, we ended up running a couple rounds around the field. (The field is rectangular, surrounded by roads, and on a slope. Consequently one of the roads goes down and one goes up, and the two flat roads are on different levels.)
And you know what? The fears are perfectly well founded. Claus went off jogging, and I managed to keep up while we were on the downward slope. Then we began the upward slope and--this is, you realise, extremely bad for my self-esteem--that's when jogging lost all appeal for me. What became very appealing indeed was a bit of shade cast by a nearby wall. (It was very sunny and very hot. Not a good thing when one is moving.) By the begnning of the second round, Claus had just begun to warm up and I was burnt out. By the end of the second round, my legs were jelly, I was drinking everythng in sight, and I had a stitch in my side (not to mention that I was breathing my throat ragged). And Claus was still running.
(Incidentally, some of the younger kids had just brought some Coke and Mentos to try out the Mentos + Coke = big bang experiment, and they'd got some Coke-Mentos mixture left over. So that's what I was drinking. It doesn't seem to have caused any adverse effects.)
It turned out that my stamina is very, very bad indeed. And next week Claus wants (me) to run 4 rounds. He's planning to run 8 in the same time, I think. God help me--because, I think, more of this and I mght literally collapse. Even now I'm trying to recover from yesterday. Claus appears to have recovered from it in less than two minutes, because he was running and bouncing around like...well, like he usually is during captain's ball.
=.=
And then last night, as I've mentioned, I watched a DVD with the Gorillas, Claus, Jogger, and a bunch of other people. It was called Little Miss Sunshine, and the movie is about a dysfunctional family who's taking the (relatively normal) daughter several states away to compete in the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant (hence the title). I'm not going to worry about spoilers, since it's a relatively old movie and so I'm not detracting from the cinemas' earnings.
See, I am so kind.
Anyway, the family is composed of Olive (the daughter), who's going for the pageant; Richard (the father), who is obsessed with his 9-steps-to-success motivational programme (and I absolutely hated his character); Joanna (the mother--I think that's her name--they generally just call her Mom), who smokes and earns the money for the family (the father is waiting for money to come in from sales of his book on his 9-steps-etc); the grandfather ("Grandpa"), who is apparently hooked on heroin and is sex-crazed into the bargain, as well as constantly spitting expletives at everybody except Olive; Uncle Frank, who's stayng with the family as rehab after a suicide attempt caused when his (male) love interest hooked up with his archrival in Proust, and then the archrival (who was apparently less bright than Uncle) published a best-seller AND was recognised as a genius (while Uncle got fired);and Dwayne (the brother) who's suffering from depression, idolises Nietzsche, and has taken a vow of silence for the last 9 months. Oh, and the car, which outlived its usefulness ages ago, but still is being used.
So they go down, and along the way, Richard gets more and more annoying... excuse me while I rant here.
I intensely dislike motivational talks. They are always vastly too optimistic about the human condition, and what's more they're always so stupidly simplistic. Plus, for some reason, motivational speakers always sound as if they've got a lot too much self-esteem, to put it mildly.
In other words, in my opinion, motvational speakers tend to be idiots with a loudspeaker and too much confidence. Of course there are obvious exceptions, but such they have been in my experience.
Especially the idiot that Loch Yuck kept on inviting just before major exams to pep us up. Listening to him always drove me mad with longing to define "vacuum" as "the space between motivational speakers' ears". Anyway, ever since then I've had an indefinable urge to retch when people come up to me and tell me to do such-and-such to "succeed". Their definition of "succeed" also usually tends to be "get whatever you want", but it's just their way of saying "money"--as is obvious from the kind of advice they tend to give! (Quite often it's stock tips.)
So, put simply, I distrust anybody who says they know how to make me "better", unless they have a definition of "better" that I can accept. Which, I suppose, probably sounds a lot lke arrogance--but seriously, I don't mind most good advice. I do, more often, mind the tone it's given in. And when you add the average motivational speaker to the mix (they're usually too loud and madly enthusiastic about whatever they're talking about) it's a pretty revolting result.
So here you have Uncle Frank the suicidal, Grandpa the foul, Dwayne the silent, Olive the hyperactive, and Mom the smoker. And, of course, that gives Richard plenty of opportunity to get in bits about "Now you see, this is where the 9 steps come in..." or "You see, you're a loser, because my 9 steps say that blah blah blah..." or "Yes! You see! You're practicing steps number 3 to 9 by blah blah blah!"
So they go down to California, getting more stressed by each other every day. (I blame Richard.) And then the turning point is when Grandpa dies from an overdose, which causes Mom to finally admit her love for the family. Apparently that declaration melts everybody's heart, because the next thing you know they're smuggling Grandpa's corpse out of the morgue so they can bury him "at home". (Of course, that's Richard's idea again. You can tell he's a Choleric by his eagerness to break every rule in sight for his own convenience.)
And the next turning point is when Olive and Frank find out that Dwayne is colourblind (on a test that even I could pass!) and therefore unfit to become a pilot (apparently that's Dwayne's dream). Upon which Dwayne screams his first word in 9 months. The F-word--which I find rather amusing. And then more hugging and crying and talking (mercifully Richard keeps his mouth shut) and then more and more turning points occur, until the point where they break every traffic rule for miles just to get to the pageant on time.
Apparently having a death en route rather messes up the schedule.
...anyway... at the pageant's talent contest, Olive stuns everybody. Because Grandpa designed her dance moves, and whaddaya expect from a drug-crazed sex fiend but a... fake strip show? (Bear in mind these are all girls below 12.) So Olive goes out in what looks like a perfectly reasonable suit, with hat, and then proceeds to start taking everything off. (But she's still wearing her swimsuit underneath. Apparently Grandpa did have a little bit of decency left behind.)
My opinion of the movie? It's pretty funny, yes, but a little twisted in others. Also it has some decidedly questionable dialogue about heaven and how one gets there. Plus I wouldn't advise you showing it to little grls below 12. Just in case they (or their grandfathers) get ideas.
I think there's been rather too much speculation on the afterlife lately. It's rather amusing, you know, to listen to all the theories. Especially in movies, where somebody dies and people start wondering whether the dead people went to heaven. Usually somebody asks the question, and the Wise Parent or the Innocent Child (two of the most common stereotypes) say God wouldn't possibly exclude the dead party from heaven, upon which soothing music wafts in from the background and the movie cuts to another scene. (During this time, I'm usually shaking my head in disbelief, but I'm not part of the movie so it doesn't matter.)
It's quite amazing the optimism of the American race. Possibly it's inbred or something into their minds... they seem to have this "gut feeling"--everything in American movies these days seems to be about the gut feelings--they must have quite incredibly bad digestion--that "good people" will go to heaven and "bad people" go somewhere else. And naturally they include themselves under the "good people" category. I only wonder if any of them ever bothered to define "good".
[Tuesday]
I am at the moment dithering between foaming at the mouth or screaming at the computer and jumping on it. You know what I wondered sometime ago about liking accounts? Well, I take it back utterly. I have developed a strong distaste for accounting--which, I suppose, indicates a return to relative sanity where I am concerned. Well, actually I just dslike the disorganisedness of "my" current client, whose auditing is due on the 16th, and I've barely got through half of his first file yet. (He's got 4 of 'em, all fat and bursting with paperwork.)
It's kind of mad, because I'm a very messy person myself. But I'm only that way physically--I assure you I keep my data quite sorted out, mentally at least. And when I can, I do keep quite comprehensive logs of whatever I have to. (Refer to the post where I list my entire room's contents.) But--gah! the company I've been working on for the past day or two has hundreds of invoices and receipts and goods-return forms and goodness knows what, and their handwriting is barely legible on occasion--so is mine, but then I'm not expecting anybody else to read it in the first place--and half the time the receipts refer to invoices that have probably been fed to a shredder somewhere or are buried in files 2, 3, or 4--and how the heck am I supposed to find 'em? Grrrrrrrrr.
And then just now I must've clicked something wrong--not difficult when you're using a touchpad, a mere touch can do all sorts of unwanted things--and all I saw was "five hundred and fifty only" before something got deleted. And there's no Undo function for that. And, of course, 550 bucks isn't a small thing to a small company. I can only hope I'll stumble across it in another receipt or something. (Right now I'm putting little stick-it notes on all the problem receipts. The result is that the file has got about 50% thcker still, if that were possible at all--and it does seem to be.)
And I stll have to finish it by the day after tomorrow, or I can't take Friday off to go see my kid brother... Arrrggggh the stress! I hate hate hate hate beng stressed. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate! (I used copipe for that. Hah!)
But that doesn't change the fact that I'd better get back to work. *sigh*
[Saturday]
Grrr. Why is it that computers and Net connections always seem to die msteriously when I'm around? It's so annoying. Or worse, they just get bogged down in nothing and practically grind to a dead stop, which is worse because then I can't safely restart without risking corruption of some file or other--and with my luck it'll be a very important file that will cause all sorts of problems in the future--and it's not even my own computer.
Bleargh. If you ask me, IE is just too demanding on the system, since it appears to eat and eat the space up like no other program does. Stupid greedy thing. Jams the gears like cold peanut butter but I can't avoid using it because I don't have FireFox... darn it.
I've been rather sickly for the last few days... chasing deadlines is tough. I suppose it's all because I don't want to inconvenience the poor innocent client, but after a few days of reading his handwriting, I'm starting to get the urge to put him on the back shelf and do some other client first.
Because, for one thing, the client writes his receipts in Chinese. And I'm bad at reading that. And for another he doesn't always specify which invoice/s the receipt refers to. And then there's the discounts, goods returned deductions, and goodness knows what else always seems to pop up that change the price. And after all that, I still have to make sure he didn't go and pay a Cash Sale with a cheque. Or vice versa. And there're the part payments to worry about. In short it's a very big mess of an account to do.
And then my brother is back here for the holidays from Singapore, so I wanted to meet him on Thursday... and the deadline for that client was Friday!... so I tried to rush, and ended up doing one file until 2am on Wednesday night. (Well, I was motivated. And yes, I brought the work back home.) And then the next morning I couldn't get out of bed and slept until 12pm... so had to rush some more. In the end I decided to go meet my brother at the Gorillas' and go back to work next morning. (It's a two-hour journey each way.)
And then as things turned out, I got to work the next day looking very pale and sleep-deprived, so had to take ANOTHER nap--the nice thing about working for relatives is that you pretty much have the run of the office and can take naps in the spare room on occasion--and lost another 4 hours of working time. So the poor client still has one and a half files of stuff to be entered into the database and reconciled, and that'll only maybe be done on Tuesday... and two days after that I have another client's files to do too... it's crazy...
Work is mad. And on top of it all I have my mom pressurising me to look for all sorts of school-related stuff, which I simply cannot because there's no Net connection at work... and she seems to think any computer will go online anywhere no matter what as long as I tell it it's for school.
Grrrr.
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