July 16, 2003
I haven't been getting much sleep. Putting in extra hours to leave things on a good note. No one wants to hear my complaints about all the little things that irk me about my job. I'm sick of hearing them myself.
I'm frazzled, I'm stressed, I'm hormonal. I'm happy about leaving, I'm sad about leaving some good friends and colleagues. I find it hard to let go and just relax. Unlike normal people, I can't seem to flake out, even though I'll be done with my job tomorrow. I have to be so goddamned conscientious. Everything will work out. I just wish I were done already. But I'm almost there.
Perhaps I should take up smoking. Or recreational Valium.
I have a minibreak coming up - going to Cape Cod this weekend to bond with my galpals at Camp Pemberley. I'm sure there'll be alcohol, chocolates, fawning over Colin Firth/Jeremy Northam/Ciaran Hinds, etc. It will be wicked fun.
It's hard to wax rhapsodic just yet because I have so much crap piled all over my desk. One of my other coworkers just told me that the assistant head librarian thought that the newest shipments of books should be unpacked and brought my way, because it didn't look like I had enough to do. I'm sorry, WHAT???? *hyperventilating*
Oh bloody bloody hell. Best get back to rolling my boulder up the hill.