it’s like a period, only – it’s not. once a month, i go through hell. sometimes, the hell only lasts a few days, like, oh, three. sometimes, though, like this month it takes seven long, long, painful days.
for those of you who have similar jobs, you might be familiar with what i’m talking about… it’s the first of the month and billing has got to get out the door. like, now. like on the first. you realise of course that today is not the first. it’s the seventh. and sadly, i’m still not done. now, granted, the fourth and fifth were weekend days and so therefore sort of don’t count. because i am, thankfully, happily employed by an employer that believes that weekends are my own. but then again… while they are my own, they don’t stop said employer from asking today, “so, really, what can we do to get billing out the door sooner than this?”
*sigh*
so here i am, late at night, locked alone in my office. boyfriend has called, concerned. he’s cooked dinner. he does that, you know. cooks. not picks up the phone and orders delivery or take-out. cooks. so here i am, ranting about how long this takes, ranting about $hitty printers, crappy cash management skills that cause crappier cashflow problems which result in stark panic over the bills not being out the door on the seventh of the month and about how i am really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y tired.
and i’m also so incredibly frustrated. because in order to make a truly dedicated attempt at meeting this deadline, i’m practically ignoring everything else. i haven’t talked to friends. i haven’t returned calls. i haven’t replied to emails. i haven’t done laundry. i haven’t gone shopping. all i’ve done is work, eat, sort-of sleep, and rant. endlessly.
deadline-schmedline