Wednesday was actually worse than Tuesday believe it or not. I had a 15 hour shift, which is often quite boring and involves a lot of sitting around drinking tea and waiting to be called. But because of Murphy, I actually didn't get a meal break and spent the whole day moving. Until 11pm when I finally caught a cab home and sobbed myself to sleep. Highlights included finally, after an hour of trying getting blood out of an IV drug user (veins collapsed/blown/spasmed/scarred) and then getting called by pathology to say that the sample had clotted in the tubes and needed to be recollected. I then had to leave for work again at 7:15am and got home at 6pm last night.
It comes as no surprise to me then that when I stepped on the scales today I have lost weight again. Free reign for me to eat chocolate all weekend I have decided.
But today is Friday, and Friday is a public holiday. For those that are religious it is a deeply significant day, but for the antichrist hellbound such as myself it is a day of salvation. A day to breathe, a day to wear pyjamas and to sleep and sleep and sleep.
After a tearful tantrum at the children, the house is marginally cleaner than a sewer and we are all enjoying not having to do much. I plan on spending the next few days doing more of the same. My lovely inlaws are visiting for the next week and are planning on doing lots of lovely school holidayish things with the girls which will be good for all of us and take one of the stressors out of working. We will maybe go see a movie and fold The Pile of washing which needs its own postcode.
I am sorry I've been so absent/dismal the last few days. I've just been feeling overwhelmed and huge and pregnant and tearful and it's a bad bad combination. 4 days of Not Going To Work should help immensely.