Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Hang tough

12. Long. Work. Hours. Our health promotion hour is now officially cancelled. The only way I had to take me through such long Tuesdays was this precious hour, to clear my mind, get some new energy, become a human being again. Instead, I sat on a chair, in meetings, from 14 until 18, with my neck turned at an unnatural angle in order to be able to see the speaker. While my brain slowly turned to mush and my body melted into the chair.

Had it been a good day, one of those where you go home completely satisfied with all you've achieved, smugly patting yourself on the shoulder, it might have been worth it. But no. It was one of those other days. The shitty ones. The stressful, hardly-have-time-to-go-for-a-wee kind of days. The ones where you fight and you fight, and all people see is the glued-on smile on your face and think that all is dandy. And then they spit on you for looking so damn cheerful.

The final insult was that it rained on me when I cycled home. Because, of course it bloody would. I'm like a cartoon character with a little cloud just over my head, that follows me around wherever I go. And I can't remember where I left my umbrella.

On the bright side (there's always a bright side), tomorrow is Wednesday. And that, my friends, means:

  • I get to sleep in (which in my case probably means until the late hour of 6.30)

  • I get to run

  • Better yet, if the Swedish meteorological institute keeps its promise, there won't be any rain in the morning.

  • Did I mention I get to run?

  • Next work day is 36 hours away.

Always look on the bright side of life.

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