Cripes I’m bored. After three days of being a flurry of productivity at the office I’ve apparently crashed and burned.

I am supposed to work tonight, and I’m just crossing my fingers and praying that the new place calls in the next two hours to tell me when I start so that I can just skip it. I am not even planning on giving notice, I just want the hell out of there. I’ve also got plans with two different people when I get out of there tonight (hopefully before 1 am) and I’m trying to come up with a clever excuse to weasel out of thefirst booking so I can get to the second. I need to remind myself from time to time that there are really only twenty-four hours in a day since I keep scheduling thirty.

Tomorrow I intend to remain in my pajamas for as long as possible, alternately sleeping and working through the next level of Buffy…which is really kicking my ass. That night I’ll be working again, unless I get that phone call, of course.

Sunday, amazingly, is remarkably plan-free. I’m sure by the time that it rolls around I’ll have three dozen errands to run, plans for every meal, and a midday nervous breakdown, but for right now I’m thinking a trip to the woods might be nice (they’re apparently predicting some sort of mid-40s, early-50s warm-up), maybe a mosey through the book store, or even more exciting, the washing of piles and piles of laundry.

I also need to figure out if BJ is really serious about a vacation, because it’s getting to be that time of year again. I already have a trip booked for June to Maine where I’ll get lots of paddling and mountain bikey goodness in, but I really need to go somewhere soon before I lose it. I don’t do well during the winter months. If he is, I have some planning to do and lots of playing outside to train for. I will not make the same mistake of showing up on some mountain with my unused winter legs, struggling to make it 100 yards before I collapse in a heap at the bottom of the trail. Who knew I could go so far backwards without falling?

(Let’s concentrate, for a moment, on the fact that I don’t want to work tonight so badly that I’m praying to go home and discover a flooded valley. Basically what I’m saying is that I would rather walk through waist high, ice cold, terribly polluted, and just a tad bit stinky river/canal water than go to work. It’s thirty degrees outside. That’s how much I hate my job. I could, of course, avoid all the trouble of wishing and just not go in, but I feel guilty about doing that without knowing for sure where my next tip is coming from…so I guess I’ll just go.)

I guess that I’d better go and make my last fifteen minutes here at the office count. I’ll drive home extra slow as well, just to give the water adequate time to rise and stuff.