This is a four-minute post. I was twenty minutes late to my only important meeting of the week (well, with the exception of my one-on-one with the big boss, but this is the big boss's staff meeting) because it was raining sheets and traffic was abysmal even though I left early. That put me in a rather foul mood for the rest of the morning, but I recovered enough to slog with near-perfect productivity until my one-on-one with the big boss later in the afternoon. We covered an insane amount of stuff in the short amount of time we have, leaving me with a list of action items the length of my arm, and a mounting sense of dread/masochistic excitement over pulling off the entire planning, organizing, and executing of a 100+ person conference in the next 35 days (14 of which I will be in Singapore and India). It will happen, and it will be great, but February is going to be an intense month between my travels, my adventures with my father, my Olympic Rings Cake Experience, the conference, my fiction class, and my desire to write 4-5 pages/day.
The writing actually happened today; I left the office at four p.m., came home, washed my sheets (since I had an awful dream right before I woke up this morning that I had head lice -- not true, but it creeped me out), and wrote four pages. I then typed them up (since I'm pursuing my new strategy of handwriting, which seems to be just as fast as typing, and I type fast enough that I can type up four pages in less than ten minutes) and ate a delicious Amy's margherita pizza before doing some work for the day job for an hour. Now, though, my four minutes are up, and I would like to get eight hours of sleep before attempting tomorrow's rain-soaked commute, so it's time for bed!
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