Really. I’m not.
Why? Because E.T. says so. See? He’s clearly communicating with me here – sending me a telepathic message that the cute kid holding him needs to be the center of my life and that everything else must come secondary. But to keep the cute kid educated, happy and fed, I must sacrifice myself to do so… well, kind of – at least temporarily – or until I adapt to my new workload.
I am sorry I have been so scant.
Work is work and there is a lot of work at work. Did you follow that? If not — translation = I am even busier than before. Isn’t that lovely?
Adaption is coming though, I can feel it. I will have time to breath again soon. Either that, or I will be dead and they’ll have to scrape me up from the floor. I tell that to my co-workers often and they laugh – but what they don’t know is that I am serious. Single Mama Collapsion Syndrome. It happens. And that’s my name for it, so bug off.
Must adapt. Must adapt. Phone home. Phone home.
Beam me up. I need the weekend.
And when I get there I’ll announce the winners to my eBook Work It contest. Have not forgotten, just too busy to gather the winners and post.