I really thought I'd be able to leave work on time today. "On time" means after eight hours. Or 8.5 or even 9 hours. I was a bit unsure as to what I'd do with myself, leaving work at 5:00. That would give me time to run home before 6:30 yoga. How decadent!
Of course, I didn't leave work until after 6:30. So no 6:30 yoga. But at least I wouldn't have to work from home tonight. Except I'm working from home now. Honestly, people who submit "urgent" or "rush" requests on Friday are just fucking evil.
I wanted to leave early tomorrow to go to Happy Hour, but my Facebook post asking if anyone was interested went un-commented on by everyone but Em. And she lives in Milwaukee. I'm fucking tempted to see if she wants to do it on Saturday.
Sure, I can just get drunk at home. It's cheaper. And it's supposed to be hot and possibly thunderstorming. Still, if I had a reason to leave, I might actually leave work early. I almost certainly have to work this weekend. What is another couple of hours if it means I can leave early?
Fuck. My brain is fried. I don't know where I was going with this. I should probably not bother trying to blog when I'm overworked and stressed the fuck out.