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Feb. 24th, 2016 10:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeSo, yesterday was impressively stressful. Starting when I got to work I went and did the safe deposit box bank thing, dropped all the important documents in, came back, tried to get mail out on time, failed because I also had to take phone calls, ended up getting mail out only slightly late, picked up UPS, realized I had two big orders to check in via UPS, tried to go down the checklist also of things I needed to do both daily and to prep for border, checked in two large-ish complicated supply orders in what I fondly think of in record time, went upstairs to grab a wholesale yarn order because of all the fucking timing (for reference, a wholesale yarn order from this store, a big one? can take 2/3 of a day of shipping), took some time out to be rescued by the best braintwin who ordered chocolates from the store across the street and had them hand delivered to me (best chocolate store too), collapsed in exhaustion at my desk which also looks like running across and down the street to get garlic because we were out and we go through LOTS of garlic and then sitting down to do edits and write some. Then I went home, cut some chicken, did two languages, mopped the guest room (after sweeping because holy shit the number of stinkbugs that died in there) and then I cooked the damn chicken while drinking a pint of Mike's Harder.
(I'm a lightweight, this actually means something, I promise.)
And you know what happened after all that? I was settled in, I was writing, I was going to relax and listen to science videos and go to bed. And then the boy texted me to say he was coming home sick. Five times over the course of a ten minute drive home, which was unnerving. SO until about an hour, hour and a half after my fucking bedtime I was running around the house again, doing laundry, finishing up the boarder room while the bannock baked because he needed to eat something that wouldn't taste horrible coming back up, pouring him tea and getting him settled on the couch, running the dish and laundry washer on sanitize and spraying the shit out of everything with lysol. till one thirty in the fucking morning. Jesus fucking christ.
So if you were wondering what brought on yesterday's post, it's shit like this. It's no one's fault which makes it almost worse, it's just a confluence of really crappy events.
Anyway. I did manage to get somewhere in the vicinity of 6 hours of sleep, I finished up most of the chores except dishes and moving laundry along. And scrubbing the bathroom, those can all wait till I get home if the boy doesn't bestir himself from his sickbed like an idiot and get some of that done. I got keys for the boarder who really needs a better name than that. And I'm at work which is somehow miraculously the slowest it's been all week. So let's hope, I guess, that no wholesale orders come in or need to go out, and that I can get through the day and capoeira tonight without falling over.
ETA: on the one hand, holy shit that is promising news on [redacted] and on the other hand oh my god I see my days of being completely fucking exhausted are certainly coming to a middle.
(I'm a lightweight, this actually means something, I promise.)
And you know what happened after all that? I was settled in, I was writing, I was going to relax and listen to science videos and go to bed. And then the boy texted me to say he was coming home sick. Five times over the course of a ten minute drive home, which was unnerving. SO until about an hour, hour and a half after my fucking bedtime I was running around the house again, doing laundry, finishing up the boarder room while the bannock baked because he needed to eat something that wouldn't taste horrible coming back up, pouring him tea and getting him settled on the couch, running the dish and laundry washer on sanitize and spraying the shit out of everything with lysol. till one thirty in the fucking morning. Jesus fucking christ.
So if you were wondering what brought on yesterday's post, it's shit like this. It's no one's fault which makes it almost worse, it's just a confluence of really crappy events.
Anyway. I did manage to get somewhere in the vicinity of 6 hours of sleep, I finished up most of the chores except dishes and moving laundry along. And scrubbing the bathroom, those can all wait till I get home if the boy doesn't bestir himself from his sickbed like an idiot and get some of that done. I got keys for the boarder who really needs a better name than that. And I'm at work which is somehow miraculously the slowest it's been all week. So let's hope, I guess, that no wholesale orders come in or need to go out, and that I can get through the day and capoeira tonight without falling over.
ETA: on the one hand, holy shit that is promising news on [redacted] and on the other hand oh my god I see my days of being completely fucking exhausted are certainly coming to a middle.