July 2nd, 2010 (08:41 pm)
current mood: exhausted
current song: Marillion - Slainte Mhath
So. Yesterday was a long and hard workday. Lots of special projects to keep track of. Plus a catalog to send to one of our print shops... which no one seemed to know how to handle, so I ended up having to do detective work to discover where it was to go and how it was to be handled. Plus a long managerial meeting full of hush-hush stuff that gave me more special projects to work on.
By the time I got out of said meeting it was after 5:00 already. Because it's also the days leading up to the Fourth of July, we've got a lot of extra work crammed into the workday so we can get a day off on Monday. So I came back to my desk expecting all sorts of things that would keep me in the office until at least 5:30...
...and I received a message that I was to call my lead paginator... the guy who comes in at god-awful-early-in-the-morning to make sure the early morning papers get sent to press. So I call him... and discover that his car died the Final Death, and he has no transportation, and Oh Yeah, Boss, you'll have to come in at 2:30 AM Friday morning to cover for me.
So. I did what I had to do at work and hit the road. Got home around 6:00 PM, made some food to fill my empty stomach. Then did my best to convince myself I was actually sleepy and could fall asleep. Ended up going to bed around 9:00 PM.
And promptly got a phone call. From telemarketers. Trying to sell me a subscription to the newspaper I work for. Needless to say, i told them no, since I could theoretically wallpaper my apartment with the number of copies of the newspaper I see every day.
Got up at 1:30 AM. On the road by 2:00 AM. Got to work by 2:30 AM. The newspaper assembly process was abnormally smooth. Witnessed no ghostly presences (the office is very old and allegedly haunted, but I've yet to see any evidence of this). By the time my first scheduled help showed up at 6:00 AM, I'd already sent 172 pages to press. The publications all got to press safely. By the time the rest of my crew made it in, I'd organized things so that we'd be able to get all that extra stuff needed for the holiday weekend done, no problem.
Now I'm home. I have that feeling I used to have all the time while working night shifts in the pressroom... too tired to do much of anything, too tired to focus on much of anything, and yet too strung out to actually go to sleep. Bah. I'm going to watch the sun go down, then I'm going to crash.
Occasionally it's good to have a day like this, just so I know that I can still handle the crap when it hits the fan. Just so long as this doesn't become habit. :-P