Eugie Foster (eugie) wrote,
Eugie Foster
eugie

  • Mood:

Meds, drugs, happy news

So I took a clonazepam for the first time in months last night, both 'cause my arms and hands are hurting again, and I haven't been sleeping very well. The upshot of that is, I slept like a dead thing. Rah! The less uppy part is that I hit snooze three times on my alarm clock before dragging my groggy self out of bed this morning, and didn't have time to put my contact lenses in before going to work.

And the drive to work was . . . fun. I felt spacey and light-headed, which is, of course, exactly what you want to be feeling while maneuvering a large piece of metal through commuter traffic. But, fortunately, I was focused enough not to get into trouble. And as soon as I got to my desk, I poured myself a great big cup of steaming hot coffee.

Half an hour later, I was very, very happy. Apparently a dose of caffeine mixed with the dregs of a clonazepam buzz is a good recipe for a warm, fuzzy state of being. Or maybe it was the discovery that the deadline I thought was next month, isn't actually until March.

I've been busting my tail at work, cranking out specs and code for a major upgrade my company is doing. I finished the first batch of thirty-four modules I was given, and like a good worker bee, I asked my team lead for more. He handed me fifty more programs, and I began muttering under my breath "hard work never goes unpunished" as my new mantra.

Feeling overwhelmed, I sent a note back to him to verify the timeline as he's an excellent TL and I couldn't believe he'd load me with so much work with such an impossible deadline. I had to be missing something. He replied, telling me that yes, I've got two weeks more than I thought I had. Whew. It'll be tight, but it's enough. So I dig in.

This morning, I open up that old email to check some detail or other about the project, and my eyes flit upon the date he gave. Somehow, I had misread "mid-March" as "mid-February."

I don't have two extra weeks. I have six. Woo!! Nice surprise. And the world is a calm and loving place once again.

Although my arms still hurt.

Writing stats:

1000 words on a new fantasy story. What happened to the other new fantasy story I'd started? It's sitting on my hard drive, sad and forlorn. Blame my muse, the flighty strumpet.

Ended up with twenty-seven crits on my Critters story. Hoping to get some work done on the rewrite over the weekend.
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