working late
Why does August try so hard
to hoist me on my own petard?—Tom Waits, Empty Pockets
It's nearly 9:00 and I'm still at work. And not because I'm unhappy with the weather, either... Quite the contrary; I'm quite happy with the first real rain we've seen in months. I've got my first design review meeting tomorrow and I haven' t finished the design yet. Which, of course, explains why I'm writing this.
I'm still confident I'll get this thing done in the next hour or so. Maybe longer, if I keep this up, but whatever. I didn't sleep much last night because of a rather nasty headache that kept me up till after 3. Oh, and I seem to be rambling, which means I'm not thinking straight and I should go home soon. Hm... This is horribly reminding me of Calculus.
I came into work to a minor crisis this morning. Nothing new, and happily, it seems to be resolved now. I can't take credit, unfortunately. That's too bad, but it wasn't anything I'm good at anyway. The upshot of it, though, is I'm more stressed out (over and above the fatigue and stress of this design review thing, which I wasn't worried about till about noon today) than I really like to be. And I don't much like stress at all. Gets me all flustered. I can't do anything.
I know. I should get a nice cup of hot chocolate and call this a break.