About 2 months ago was the last time I posted here. And also about the last time I had a true honest moment to myself. Or did anything particularly fun or exciting. Or hell, the last time I left my fucking desk for lunch. But today, for the first time in 8 weeks, I will get to leave the building while the sun is still shining. I will get to have lunch somewhere other than my desk. And I may even get home before my husband goes to bed. It's like I've been lost and am now returning from that lost place.
You see, in those 8 weeks, my work has exploded, or imploded, or whatever you call it when it gets so busy and so out of hand that you find yourself working around the clock and without end. Now granted, there are some folks in my office who have worked even more than I have in the last couple of months, but those people are fucking crazy or lack imagination. Because the hours I've put in have fucked with my life enough -- I can't imagine putting in anymore, and especially not double. Let's put it this way: I have worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week for the last 8 weeks, but these other folks were putting in at least 15 hours a day, 7 days a week. And living at a hotel to be on call 24 hours a day. And every single one of them just put up with it. I don't know if they're afraid of losing their jobs during this shitty economy or what. But you better believe that that life will never, fucking ever, be mine. Fuck that. Although it looks like one of my cases is barreling toward that insanity as I write this....
But I plan to avoid this fate one of two ways...
One -- my preference would be to find a new job. And I'm working on that, but as you can imagine, the pickings are slim. Really slim. So, that may take much longer than anticipated. Which means I might still be stuck here when trial hell starts for my case. And if that happens, then .....
Two -- I will absolutely and without regret check myself into a psych ward. Any psych ward. Because just the thought of working 100 hours a week makes me sick, and crazy, and in need of serious medication. I figure after 4 or 5 15 hour fays, I could definitely have a nervous breakdown. Or at least fake one enough to get them to admit me, right? And if that doesn't work, then I will simply poison myself with gluten. Repeatedly if necessary. Can't work 15 hours a day if I'm puking my guts up all day, now can I?
