you're invited to my pity party

I worked eighty hours this week if you count getting up at five a.m. as part of the work week.

Things I'd forgotten about working in the 'real world'.

How much I hate being awake at 5 a.m.
The world is 99% dumb asses and 1% blessings in disguise. (the blessings are twice as nice but harder to locate)
That the work day doesn't end til the last kid has been tucked up -- twice.
My sense of humor declines exponentially with the increasing number of hours spent dealing with above mentioned dumb asses.
Going to work is not going to work; it's getting up, coffee, dog, poke 9 year old boy, shower, food, poke the boy again, fix food, yell at boy, dry hair, force boy out of bed, pack purse, make brown bag lunches, seat boy at dining table, hurry boy upstairs, relay evils of not brushing teeth to boy, deflect argument, find boy's shoes comb backpack cell phone coat homework, push boy out the door, warm up car, wave gaily to boy, turn up music while executing Speed Racer maneuver into traffic and cursing the fact that once again my 9 year old has made me late.

Then, I get to do my job, which I am too tired to mention right now.

Sorry I haven't written. I hope to do better during the exciting WEEK TWO of Shira Goes to Work.

tomorrow's post: Taxes and the Common Man