I am currently in the middle of a 13 day working week, and my GOD you'd think I was recreating the universe I'm so tired and moany. I must be updating Twitter about every 20 seconds with another whinge about how exhausted I am and how I'm jealous of everyone else's lovely weekends of rest and tedium. I bet God didn't do that. Mind you he only had six days and then he got to put his feet up, the lucky bitch.
I don't know who decided to have five days of work and two days of rest, but they knew what they were on about. I know a four day week would be mint and all that, but at the other end of the spectrum, having six days of work and one day off is exhausting and I don't seem to be getting used to it at all. Five days on two days off is clearly needed for my sanity. And now I don't even have a day off on Sunday either! Well, not for a bit anyway. I've got pink rabbit eyes and blotchy skin and I'm hell to be around, snapping at everybody and making them all do press-ups.
My Pilates course is brilliant though, and it will all be worth it in the end.
In other news, today is Valentine's Day. I've forgotten what Sam looks like (tall? scruffy? think I passed him on the way to the bathroom at some point on Friday night) so it will be nice to watch a slightly weak film together and actually COOK and eat the same meal at the same time which honestly I don't think we've done yet in 2011. Shame on us.
Anyway, there will be no flowers, chocolates or champagne. Instead there will be daft "cards" drawn with felt-tip and Molly Ringwald on the telly.
Pretty excited actually. A lifetime of V-days like this will be great.