The last two weeks at work have sucked the ever-lovin' life out of me. There's no need to delve into the gory details, but let me make these notes.
Before going live with new time keeping/payroll and travel systems, it would be wise to:
a) finalize the details of how said systems will work, so that the training department can TEACH PEOPLE TO USE THEM
b) do so prior to the DAY THEY GO LIVE so that the training department can learn the systems and TEACH PEOPLE HOW TO USE THEM
It was a wild, wild few weeks. Suffice to say that I owe my assistant manager (Coworker Wally) about 500 pints of Starbucks ice cream and about twice that many days of comp time. So on Monday, I declared that the training department (um... that would be me... and Wally... and that's it) would be closed on Friday.
That being said- as much as these past few weeks sucked, this morning was all kinds of cake and ice cream fantastic! Around 4:30 a.m., I kind of about 1/8 of the way woke up. Not enough to annoy me, but enough I was conscious. And I thought "gee, I only have an hour until the alarm goes off." And then I thought "oh yeah.... I don't have to go to work today!!!!" It was the nicest moment of warm happy fuzziness. I was at the perfect temperature, the bed was all comfy, a nice cool breeze was coming in the window from the quiet stillness outside, Husband was snuggled up behind me... and I DIDN'T HAVE TO GO TO WORK TODAY! I fell back asleep smiling. Well, in my mind I was smiling. Didn't have a mirror handy. It's the little things, people.
It's 10:00 now. I've been up for an hour and I've managed to settle in on the couch still in my jammies with my second cup of coffee and some bad daytime television. OK, so I did throw in a load of laundry and feed the pets. And put some dishes in the dishwasher. And answered a couple of work emails.
This may be a sickness.
On to more good stuff. Sunday is our second wedding anniversary! That's right, I have somehow managed to keep Husband conned into putting up with me for TWO WHOLE YEARS. The man is a total saint. He's even indulged my new addiction to Dancing with the Stars. (Yes, yes, I know. I'm disgusted with me for you.) To celebrate 24 months of blissful brain-washing (you're getting sleeeeepy.... you reeeaaally love going to Ann Taylor...), we're taking a golf lesson and going to a nice dinner.
And in two weeks, I turn thirty. Thirty. As in twice fifteen. Three times ten. HALFWAY TO SIXTY. Wow. Is 2 weeks out too early to start drinking in "celebration"?