The Sorrows of Young Werewolf (eyeteeth) wrote,
The Sorrows of Young Werewolf

No, I'm not dead

And this isn't even late, strictly speaking, because it was up on on time. Yesterday I rolled out of bed at seven thirty (no hyphen per The Chicago Manual of Style), spent four and a half hours frantically finishing up the edit of a Regency romance, then switched right over to office work and frantically finished up the third-pass proof of a series of lesson plans for a fifth grade unit on Don Quixote, and then the first-pass proof of a series of lesson plans about the Middle Ages, and then it was six p.m. Most days I roll out of bed at seven to leave the apartment at eight to get to the office at nine and then it's eight straight hours of squinting at educational material before it's time to go home and squint at some novel or other (not mine) until it's time to roll back into bed. Naturally I wouldn't be doing this if I weren't getting paid bookoo dollars, and that part is nice, but I'm not used to it and it's difficult. They want us to come in on Saturdays now too. That means time and a half. Time and a half is forty-five dollars an hour. That'll buy a lot of coffee to drink at cafés while I write my novel. Eventually.
Tags: officelife, sleep,, stix
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