too much weekend

I think I overdid it a bit over the past few days, and it caught up with me today at work. Friday night started with stopping over at home before heading down to Scarbs for something that remarkably resembled a kebab and reasonable quantities of raucous behavior from large numbers of people wearing helmets, followed by going for a strop south and then around the city for a few hours.

Saturday morning saw me up again and realising that I needed to do a lot of shopping. I needed several birthday presents, an engagement present and a shiny set of extremely sharp knives. That was enough effort in itself, but it was then followed by the relative engagement party, a 21st, a short batting of eyelids that one would be hesitant to deem as sleep, getting up, play rehearsals, dropping off to visit the nicest man on the face of the earth (also coincidentally my brother) for his birthday for a couple of hours, then getting along to see Resident Evil: Apocalypse at a session time that meant there would be a maximum of six hours between when I got home and when I would need to be up again to make it to work on time on Monday, minus the time it would take for a shower.

All in all this meant I had a great time on the weekend, but arrived at work a few minutes late with my tie and breakfast in my pockets, shirt half-undone, again unshaven, even more unkempt, having emerged from bed a mere 20 minutes previously and with a breath odour that would make a hungover pirate blush. Comments about my freshly-risen-from-the-dead appearance were the order of the day from arriving coworkers, but I stuck the whole day out (oh alright, I took off half an hour early due to extra-seediness) answering calls and managing to sound perky and bright while intravenously gorging myself on coffee and energy drinks.

Of course at lunch, the boss brought up the fact that since it’s about fire season, the early shift will soon start at 7am, 25 minutes drive from where I live. After brief plots to bring a fry-grill to work to make breakfast on the front counter, I told him it wouldn’t be a problem… I’d just be that little bit extra surly in the mornings. He wanted to know how he could tell the difference.

I hate being trumped.

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