©2022 Michael Raven
Oh, how exhausting.
My butt is dragging tonight, and yet, I’m not sure I can bring myself to sleep. Between juggling bedrooms so those sick with covid can be comfortable (yet isolated), sanitize those rooms in the previous arrangement, and other myriad details, now is the time that my workloads ramp up “to 11”. And, the team in charge of one highly “if told you about it, I’d have to kill you” type of project not only had a flood of data flow into their consciousness, but the secret client wanted to see it ASAP-DAMMIT, so I was put in the position of reviewing twenty-five analytical laboratory reports for QC, but manage tracking for who/what/where, report distribution and all that kind of groovy shit. I typically see that much QC review work, at most, over the course of a month, not two days. Oh, and my other project managers wanted pronto turn-around on complex things.
It got to the point that at 8.30 am, when a coworker wanted to know what the status was on work she was taking over for me because some of this was a known factor — well, she got the brush off. “Contact the PM on that work and figure out how he wants to get going, I’m currently underwater and don’t have time to come up for air.”
No, I was not very nice, especially because she doesn’t know that covid is moving through the household and I am manically trying to offload or tick off as much as my task list as possible before it hits me. Psst — I’m considering it an inevitability.
That said, I usually try to give as much attention to new folks as I can possibly muster, but this is a really intense period of stress because of the convergence of these factors.
It doesn’t help that my eldest’s greatest priority is wanting to go to her school’s welcome night on Tuesday so she can get her courses and meet her teachers. She keeps trying to get me to commit to taking her and I’m all about the “let’s just worry about making it through tomorrow, then the weekend. On Tuesday morning, that’s when I’ll tell you if for certain we can go. Subject to change, of course, if I start to run a fever at lunchtime.
And the spirits see no reason to hold back either, as they’ve decided it is time to lay on some heavy messages in my dreams. In most cases, I can take stuff like that in stride — I’m used to it. But, when I need all of my wits about me? That’s verging on being cruel, it is. I won’t complain more than this paragraph (and I’m not really complaining, as they well know), because it is important heavy shit that I need to know about.
I see that I haven’t even mentioned the cats, one of which I found on my chest two nights ago. He looked at me like I was crazy to camp out on the couch, then batted my nose to emphasize his opinion that I was an idiot and bounded off into shadows.
Lots of love there.