The longest day of all.


This morning I woke with a start to light streaming in through my curtains and then checked my phone with trepidation to see how late I had slept in. Yea it was 7.40 but I am so used to getting up at 7am or before that I can't actually remember the last time I woke when it wasn't dark outside. I had decided in light of the fact that I am not beginning work until 1 today that I could allow myself an extra hour in bed to catch up on much needed sleep but sadly my body thought otherwise.

 The Friday's I am working generally turn me into a bit of an overachiever in that I generally make several very ambitious plans about what I shall get up to in the hours before work but I don't do so well at following through. Usually about half of it gets abandoned when I realise I am beginning to run late for work.

 As it stands this Friday I have to make time for making myself resemble a human being (ie shower and make up) eat breakfast and then a small lunch before work, sort out a change of clothes for going to Clonmel tomorrow and finish this blog post. I have of course set myself some extra tasks that may or may not come to fruition depending on whether or not my time management skills vastly improve in the next hour or so. I am feeling an overwhelming urge to bake cookies and scones and I don't know where this comes from but the best plan feels like doing everything else first and then re-evaluating to see if I got carried away with myself. And maybe I might need to wrestle a little with my latent desire to lounge upon my couch watching tv shows until I absolutely have to go to work.

 Fridays in work are always long, slow days that are in no way helped by the fact that I am usually out of bed before 8 ( to once again attempt the impossible feat of squeezing too many things into too few hours) and so by the time I start work at 1 I feel unfairly as though I have already worked half a day. The day feels upside down. I eat lunch before I even start work and then I have my dinner at 4.30 and return to work an hour later with far too many hours to kill before I can home. 

 This is all not helped by the fact that I am off all weekend. In some ways you would think the worst Fridays are the ones where I am back in at 9 on a Saturday morning so there's a less than 12 hour turnaround between my leaving work and being back there again and don't get me wrong because I do not enjoy that one bit but in some ways when you add a bit of anticipation for the weekend it makes the day stretch in ways I never thought would be possible so it feels like you have worked three Fridays instead of just the one. 

 Tomorrow I am dragging my lazy ass down to Clonmel for a class because it's long overdue and I suddenly have a bit more free time because the christening I had booked the day off for isn't actually on until the evening time. I have decided to bring the boyfriend down with me and give him the ahem tour of Clonmel which should take all of 2 minutes. I will be introducing him to some of the family because at this stage I think they are starting to doubt his existence and I have probably put it off as long as possible. All the same I am looking forward to my full weekend off work even if right now it feels as though I will never get there. 

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