Yesterday was a special trip to Work Hell and what was really odd is that I was totally digging it. Yes, I felt like a whirling dervish on crack, but it was exhilirating as hell.

And today, my boss said,"You're doing a great job, Wendy." *preen*

When he told me that he wanted me to monitor people's hours, I got nervous. I simply said that while I can work 50 hour weeks for a few more weeks that my daycare couldn't support that indefinitely. He agreed and said that after a couple weeks that it was cool to go to 40-45. Of course, I will probably do stuff from home, too.

Also next week, I start classes. I'm taking a VB class which would be very useful for my job and I'm taking some quilting, volleyball, and grant writing classes. It amounts to 6 units over the semester which means I can stave off the slobbering student loan hounds. I am not sure why I am taking the grant class, other than it amounts to putting my writing skills to use in some way. Who knows, I may be able to go ahead and start writing grants for folks as a side business.

I know I am kind of disjointed here, but I am a decent writer. I have a writer friend, who says I'm cool because I actually take the time to write a letter when I send him email. He and I have a history of sending each other all kinds of mail, but he always marvels at that aspect of me.

I do write single liners to my husband, but we're usually trying to take care of house stuff between busy work schedules.

I've only got one more week of these long horrible hours and then things should settle down to a reasonable scream of pace.

And I don't know what to think of myself. I'm itchy for my own home space. I sewed up matching pillow covers to go with my curtains. And since the scorpions, dude, I LOVE walking into my clean room. I'll admit that the bottom of the closet needs help and that the cedar chest needs to be cleared, but I think I am just going to take everything and start listing it on ebay in small lots and sell it. If it doesn't go, I put it in a pile for Salvation Army or something.

Oh, more non sequitur. Every time I think Salvation Army, I remember falling asleep through "Major Barbara" at the Ashland Shakespeare Festival and then just feeling bad about it. It was a really awesome set -- a rotating set in three sections that turned for whatever set was needed. Part of the falling asleep part was being up half the night watching "Julius Caesar" (my GOD it's about the suckiest Willy play) and then getting up at the buttcrack of dawn to get tickets at the ticket office. Oh, to be a new college graduate again. I only wish I'd been able to get to see "Taming of the Shrew" because it's one of my favorite plays. We could only get one ticket and not two and we didn't want to go without the other because that's half the fun of seeing a play -- seeing it with a friend and then bitching/marveling about it afterwards. I went with my friend, Leno, who had endured Shakespeare with the same horrible professor I had endured. This was the professor who specialized in the cross-dressing aspects of several of Shakespeare's plays. We were all pretty sure he was a crossdresser himself and if there was a professor who could KILL Shakespeare's comedies, it was certainly Professor Schleiner.

It must be a Friday afternoon, because all I want to do is listen to music, drink diet code red, and fantasize about kissing my husband for hours and hours.