I do not work overtime. I chose this particular Day Job because of the low-to-nonexistent likelihood that I would be asked to go above and beyond the call of duty and work late and be all, you know, involved and stuff. This was quite deliberate: I’m a writer, and I’ve noticed that the longer one stays at work, the less time one has to write.
And that’s worked out pretty well over the last few years. I go to work, leave at quitting time, write. Lather rinse repeat.
Except, suddenly there’s this Economic Stimulus Package, and all these nice new grants to apply for. With these horrendously short deadlines. Okay, fine.
Except, the Boss Lady had long since planned a trip to take her son to look at colleges this week. And, that’s not the kind of thing you can put off. Right now is pretty much when college decisions have to be made.
Sooo….. she’s back East, leaving only me to pull all these together as far as the administrative/analyst side of things goes; all the doctors are scrambling to get budget numbers together, and write the science, and change their biosketches to the new peculiar format, and get the zillions of signatures required… and I’m working late.
Boo. We better get some of these, that’s all I can say. This is really cutting into my drinking I mean writing time.