So, I was going to write a complaint post.
Because it is 8:31 in the PM and I’m still at work. And staring at 2 or 3 more hours worth of work.
If I had slacked all day… if I had gone on an extended boozy lunch or even had an appointment, I would sit here and accept my late night with a smile on my face.
HA HA HA! Okay, even I couldn’t keep a straight face about that one. I would accept my fate but I would whine, cry and bitch about it. But it would be understandable why I was working so many hours (over 12 and counting already).
But you know what? I didn’t slack all day. I worked my balls off (metaphorically speaking, of course) and I still have all this freaking work to do. Aurgh!
So while I was walking back to the office (had to run an errand and come back) I was bemoaning my fate and wondering why life is so hard for me.
But then I thought about it… REALLY thought about it… and what do I care that I have to work late? I mean, there’s better food here than I have at home. I can crank my tunes (listening to The Whitest Boy Alive – going to see them with Step-Step tomorrow!) without having to worry about bothering the Denizens of Aurghville (read: flatmates). I can even update my damned blog.
I suppose that if there was someone waiting at home for me (cue violin music here), even a pet (get yer hankies ready) I would be more upset. But there’s no reason for me to care about not being at home. I like my room in Aurghville, but it doesn’t really feel like home anyway. So, yah.
So, yah… I don’t really care about working late. It’ll be nice to get some things actually done and out of my hair tonight so I can relax about going to the gig tomorrow. But if you want to feel sorry for me anyway… I accept your pity. I love it.