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Well, we've made it halfway into the week. It's hump day, y'all. Also Star Wars day. So, y'know, may the fourth be with you. (And if you're Catholic or recovering Catholic, "and also with you."
I woke up at 5, to Boodle howling mournfully outside our bedroom door. I got up, worried something was wrong for her to trill and run up the stairs to the kitchen, obviously expecting me to follow and feed her breakfast. I went back to bed, but wasn't able to get comfortable again, so Boodle got her wish of an early breakfast.
Still anxious as balls. I'm just constantly on edge, and I'm tired of it already. Everything feels like it could be an emergency to my jerk brain. It's just exhausting. It also is making it difficult to focus, which makes work so much fun. I really need vacation to hurry up and get here. No guarantee that will help, but it's worth a try.
I'm holding out for Lancaster and also for June when Disney will open up their packages for next year. I don't think there's going to be a package that knocks down our hotel by that much, but I want to get the tickets and all of that sewn up. When I get especially anxious or sad, I pull open the Disney app and look at the hotel reservation to cheer me up.
I was talking with a coworker about it, and realized that it's been probably about 15 years since I took a whole week off for vacation. I normally just take a day or two here and there. I'll be taking off for 7 full work days to the tune of 56 hours. That boggles my mind a little bit. I don't think I've ever done that! The weird thing is, I'm not sure where my PTO normally goes. I get 5 weeks, which seems like a lot to do in dribs and drabs.
The dog has a poopy butt again. We're trying to get it cleaned off, but so far, no luck. He's such a little pain in the ass. If he'd just let us take a wipe to it, he'd be good in two minutes. But no, he has to make it a production.
Okay, time to get myself together. Everyone have a good Wednesday!
I woke up at 5, to Boodle howling mournfully outside our bedroom door. I got up, worried something was wrong for her to trill and run up the stairs to the kitchen, obviously expecting me to follow and feed her breakfast. I went back to bed, but wasn't able to get comfortable again, so Boodle got her wish of an early breakfast.
Still anxious as balls. I'm just constantly on edge, and I'm tired of it already. Everything feels like it could be an emergency to my jerk brain. It's just exhausting. It also is making it difficult to focus, which makes work so much fun. I really need vacation to hurry up and get here. No guarantee that will help, but it's worth a try.
I'm holding out for Lancaster and also for June when Disney will open up their packages for next year. I don't think there's going to be a package that knocks down our hotel by that much, but I want to get the tickets and all of that sewn up. When I get especially anxious or sad, I pull open the Disney app and look at the hotel reservation to cheer me up.
I was talking with a coworker about it, and realized that it's been probably about 15 years since I took a whole week off for vacation. I normally just take a day or two here and there. I'll be taking off for 7 full work days to the tune of 56 hours. That boggles my mind a little bit. I don't think I've ever done that! The weird thing is, I'm not sure where my PTO normally goes. I get 5 weeks, which seems like a lot to do in dribs and drabs.
The dog has a poopy butt again. We're trying to get it cleaned off, but so far, no luck. He's such a little pain in the ass. If he'd just let us take a wipe to it, he'd be good in two minutes. But no, he has to make it a production.
Okay, time to get myself together. Everyone have a good Wednesday!
