My workaholism strikes again - but only at night, when I'm home from work. I slept relatively late this morning (7:30, so decadent), took an eight a.m. meeting from home, and worked for an hour before driving down to the south bay to pick up cupcakes and train with Alyssa. She wasn't too hard on me despite the fact that I broke every taboo and brought cupcakes into the gym, since I was more worried about them melting in my car than I was about her anti-cupcake wrath. Then I picked up some champagne, went to the office, and mostly spent the afternoon watching soccer (sadness). And I did about an hour of desultory meetings after before deciding I would maybe go home and relax...
...but traffic was awful, so I stopped for coffee and ended up working on day job stuff for an hour and a half. I'm thrilled that I got Thorington in to my editor yesterday, but I'm so behind at work that it's almost laughable. So I caught up on work stuff, drove back to the city while twitching from my caffeine overdose, ate some enchiladas (yes, I'm fancy), did some personal work while watching an episode of Craig (which I haven't watched in ages - it's probably my fault he's retiring), tried on the first of the mountain of black dresses I ordered for the wedding I'm in this weekend (I love one of them, but it's the one that's least suited for the wedding), and then worked for the last hour.
But I'm determined to relax at least a little bit this week - I had thought about taking tomorrow off, but I have to work in the morning. But I'm hoping I can wrap it up in two or three hours so that I can spend my afternoon doing my own thing. We'll see how that goes - goodnight!
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