I am being (slightly) crushed by the volume of work I have on my plate these days. Big project + impending (nay, looming, tsunami-like) deadlines = crushing. I only wish I were as cool as Giles Corey.
But I'm not.
So, instead, I've been fantasizing about winning the lottery and/or my husband getting a promotion that would net out the differential in our income loss if I were to stop working. Neither of these things is likely to happen this year. End result? I will keep plugging along, 60-hours-a-week-style, 'til this thing is behind me.
Oh, how I yearn for the days of theater, when I knew opening night would be the end of my pain. The rough spots would appear in front of the audience, and would either be buffed out OR earn us some, ahem, interesting reviews. Even with criticism, though, the thing would be DONE, released. Not something to be refined and reworked ad infinitum.
Thank the sweet Lord we booked our vacation. I can cling to that while I'm feeling overwhelmed. Ah, the soothing, clarion call of the beach in July....
But I'm not.
So, instead, I've been fantasizing about winning the lottery and/or my husband getting a promotion that would net out the differential in our income loss if I were to stop working. Neither of these things is likely to happen this year. End result? I will keep plugging along, 60-hours-a-week-style, 'til this thing is behind me.
Oh, how I yearn for the days of theater, when I knew opening night would be the end of my pain. The rough spots would appear in front of the audience, and would either be buffed out OR earn us some, ahem, interesting reviews. Even with criticism, though, the thing would be DONE, released. Not something to be refined and reworked ad infinitum.
Thank the sweet Lord we booked our vacation. I can cling to that while I'm feeling overwhelmed. Ah, the soothing, clarion call of the beach in July....
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