I woke up this morning with this thought rattling through my brain: Only sixteen more hours of work this week. Then I thought: Eighteen hours if I count lunches. Finally, I thought: Nineteen if I count walking to and from work.
By the time I leave, I'll be down to eight hours, or nine hours, or nine hours forty-five minutes, depending on how you want to look at it.
Today was also a meeting of the union, of which I am not yet a full member. Money is taken from my pay so they can bargain for me, but more money has to be taken away for me to actually be a member of the union. That, to me, seems silly.
I also had my first, although it should be my second, review today. I did well. The PJ is letting me take the thing back to my apartment with me so I can read over everything before I sign anything. I think that was nice of him.
I'm off this weekend to the big city to visit with my brother and a friend. (The same two people in the picture I mentioned earlier.) We're to talk about a possible future in publishing. Right now my outlook is bright and bleak, sunny and stormy, half-full and half-empty; you choose the metaphor.
That's all for today.
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