days end confused
Work continues to be crazy, crazy busy. After a weekend spent working and days and days of panic, I made the mistake of relaxing yesterday only to discover, at 6pm, that files I had submitted to the printer were borked and needed to be redone. Great - cue much frantic head scratching and sleeplessness as I tried to work out how to get myself and the client out of a shibboleth-sized hole while struggling with network issues. Poor TA - he tried to advise and help me but I was so far into panic mode that any suggestion was met with wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Sprout, meanwhile, punctuates my every waking and sleeping hour with a series of punches, kicks and wiggles that send my innards flying all over the shop and announce his burgeoning presence to the outside world. I’m - exhausted, sore and tetchy - in countdown mode to maternity leave: ten more weeks. This should be a light at the end of the tunnel and it would be if my employer’s cover proposal didn’t effectively render me redundant. I’m raising the issue in a meeting on Thursday so perhaps we’ll get it sorted out amicably and straightforwardly; honestly, I don’t think there’s any malice in their proposal, they are just not that bright or forward thinking (or perhaps they think I’m not coming back). In the privacy of my own head though I’m raving just like TA does whenever he has to make a customer-service complaint “If this isn’t sorted out I’m going to SUE you!”
Speaking of TA, his contract is almost at an end and, unless he can arrange to be taken on by another project, life will soon revert to the relative calm of abject poverty. I’m not sure what I’m hoping for - the calm or the cash. I miss him and we’re both so tired, frayed, but the prospect of being dual income for a while longer is too good to be turned down and almost any sacrifice of family life is justified by the increase in financial security.