…so I need to accept that 8 weeks before I get married, the hairdresser I visited today has cut my hair far shorter than I wanted. I asked for a trim, said I was happy with the kicky-outy bits, and ended up with, well I am not too sure what I ended up with yet. I came home from the shop, stopped off at Flinders Street loos on the way to catch the train, wet my hands and tried to rearrange it. I came home and got some of my gunk and tried to rearrange it, I have been to the gym this afternoon, had a shower and it sits on top of my head like, [long pause, hands through hair, big sigh] I have no words for what it feels like.
I will get up in the morning, shower, blow dry it and try and see if I can rescue the cut into something liveable and pray that it grows as quick as it normally does so that come the weekend before ‘we do’ I can get the frickin fringe trimmed as the rest of it may, just may be a better frickin length.
It is all I need. I am bitchy, catty, tired, cross and frustrated, all at once at the moment. In no particular order I have:
* a mountain of ironing
* an annual conference to co-ordinate
* a children’s programme to co-ordinate for said annual conference
* annual reports from the Practices arriving thick and fast in my inbox, all of which need to be printed on our temperamental colour printer, then bound
* the group’s annual report to collate and present materially to Big Cheese on Thursday
* a night out this week (yay! I am off to see Dr Phil on Wednesday), but that means I can only stay late 2 nights this week to get everything done before Thursday
* the new house needs a really good clean, and I mean a really good clean
* there is a really good reason why I am worrying about all these, but for ‘secret women’s business’ I can’t put it on here – yet
* our wedding creeps ever closer, but before it gets here I have to concentrate on work and hope that all our preparations are enough to see us through the last mad three weeks which will be left after the conference completes
God I could do with a PA myself.
I am sat in my office at home, watching my external hard-drive whizz through an iTunes software update, in turn feeding this to my iPod which seems to be taking forever to upload. I have two USB ports on my lap top, both being used – for something that normally takes 5 minutes. An hour and half after it started I sit with paperwork spread out all over my desk, almost screaming in frustration as all the work I have brought home with me today is on a sodding data stick and I can’t do anything.
People tell me that I will be OK, that the work will get done, but I need to sleep otherwise I get even more cranky and miserable, so working too late for me isn’t an option. I can’t drink the red bulls and v’s that keep getting bandied about the office because they flare up my eczema, so I have been getting in about 8am so I get an hour before the phones start, I stayed till 6pm 3 nights this week, eating lunch at my desk and working again in the evenings when I get home. I have no idea when I will come home on Monday and Tuesday.
Dan and Matt are at the football this evening so I had an extra 5 hours of peace and quiet to crack on with stuff, (as I am struggling to get any work done at work), that is rapidly disappearing around me. If I unplug it now, it will corrupt and I really don’t have time to fix it.
So Eckhart, I am sorry but I don’t feel at ease at this moment. I am trying, I am really trying, but at the moment all I feel is woefully inadequate, overwhelmed and above all lost.