There are about 10000 things I didn't get to do this summer. Usually I am forced to blame myself, my procrastinating nature, for my crippling summer-onset laziness. BUT this year, it's totally my job's fault.
At least that's what I am telling myself.
Whenever I think, OK, need to make a list of all the crap...why didn't I do that already...need INK don't forget INK...I have six more days of work...can I ask for a day off...I need boxes... and all these things begin to overwhelm me, I just think STUPID JOB instead of STUPID CLAIRE. Which is good for my psyche, overall.
But now all the things I didn't do this summer (like watch Pulp Fiction or finish my quilt) are buried beneath all the things I need to do in the next six days. One list is full of regret, and the other is full of anxiety.
I'd better get crackin'.