Welcome back to work...
Mar. 27th, 2006 10:36 amAs I always say, there's nothing quite like having annual leave to make you appreciate not being at work.
Before I start ranting, however, ( I saw a ballet on Saturday )
I can't really say much more, as I think
rachel2205's review of it said a lot more. Besides which, I'm tired.
I didn't get to sleep last night until about 12.45 - possibly, because I had a St John's Wort right before bed and my brain wouldn't shut up. I was then plagued with horrible dreams all night, which I mostly only remember residual images of: creating fireworks with pillar candles and chemicals and going to
translucent's house to show her; teenagers being dismembered in horrible ways whilst on holiday; someone's eye popping out of its socket in graphic detail; myself only having one eye as a result; myself and Paul trying to get to a gig but apparently staying with my grandmother at her old house in Halesowen; taxi-ing to Paul's house to find it darkened and labyrinthine.
All quite disturbing and graphic, but oddly not scary. I subsequently woke up at 6.30 with my alarm and got up 20 minutes later after failing to get back to sleep again until 7.00. I'm not as tired as I probably should be, but I attribute that to the fact that I got about 11 hours of sleep on Saturday night.
So, yes, four days off work, and I return to a shitload of stuff on my desk, the majority of which is convening from Sandra. Obviously. One of them says "these must be sent out before the end of Monday 27th March" - well, I've been on leave. Surely if they're that urgent, it wouldn't have been impossible for her to get off her lazy arse and do them herself.
The board wasn't done, so I had to do that this morning, which involved copying it out twice because the printer's not working. I've still to sort through the other paperwork on my desk.
I've also spent the first 20 minutes of everyone's arrival hearing about their delightful hangovers after Friday night, which I am doubtless in the doghouse about because I didn't go - despite the fact that I texted Tina to ask her about details for it and got no reply. I'd spent four hours in town that afternoon doing shopping that should've taken about half that time and was exhausted.
On the plus side, there's a Union strike tomorrow, so nobody's coming in. I'll be buggered if I'm manning the office on my own. I'll lose a day's pay, but sod it. Day off, woo. Which works out quite well, as I'm going out tomorrow night.
Before I start ranting, however, ( I saw a ballet on Saturday )
I can't really say much more, as I think
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I didn't get to sleep last night until about 12.45 - possibly, because I had a St John's Wort right before bed and my brain wouldn't shut up. I was then plagued with horrible dreams all night, which I mostly only remember residual images of: creating fireworks with pillar candles and chemicals and going to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
All quite disturbing and graphic, but oddly not scary. I subsequently woke up at 6.30 with my alarm and got up 20 minutes later after failing to get back to sleep again until 7.00. I'm not as tired as I probably should be, but I attribute that to the fact that I got about 11 hours of sleep on Saturday night.
So, yes, four days off work, and I return to a shitload of stuff on my desk, the majority of which is convening from Sandra. Obviously. One of them says "these must be sent out before the end of Monday 27th March" - well, I've been on leave. Surely if they're that urgent, it wouldn't have been impossible for her to get off her lazy arse and do them herself.
The board wasn't done, so I had to do that this morning, which involved copying it out twice because the printer's not working. I've still to sort through the other paperwork on my desk.
I've also spent the first 20 minutes of everyone's arrival hearing about their delightful hangovers after Friday night, which I am doubtless in the doghouse about because I didn't go - despite the fact that I texted Tina to ask her about details for it and got no reply. I'd spent four hours in town that afternoon doing shopping that should've taken about half that time and was exhausted.
On the plus side, there's a Union strike tomorrow, so nobody's coming in. I'll be buggered if I'm manning the office on my own. I'll lose a day's pay, but sod it. Day off, woo. Which works out quite well, as I'm going out tomorrow night.