year of the Pig

    I thought that I knew what 'tired' meant. I am discovering new dimensions of tired.
    Yesterday, I had breakfast with my parents and my boyfriend's mother. It was their first meeting. Rather impromptu and very casual, it went well—much easier, in fact, than I'd anticipated. Still, it was a bitch of a way to start a day that was not to end for far too long.
    After waving goodbye to Mom & Dad and sending them on their way back north (where there is no snow, believe it or not) I went to work. Where I stayed, except for a very short break, from 9:10 AM until 8:05 PM. I worked my fingers to nubs. When I finally left, 13-digit numbers were swimming before my eyes. I was officially done.
    I went home, put on my jammies, and watched Grey's Anatomy. Tried to, anyway, but having missed the first 4 minutes I found myself rather in the dark. Something about a drill and Derek swimming for Meredith. I guess I will watch the second showing tonight so I can figure out what the hell was going on.
    Nick came over later, for one of his rare midweek appearances since the new job began. He came bearing Valentine gifts—he'd written a poem, and he got me a ring. (Don't get excited, it's not that sort of ring.) Just to spend an hour with him was...really lovely.
    I slept the sleep of the dead. Got up this morning feeling like I hadn't moved the whole night (I'm usually a pretty restless sleeper, moving around a lot), a little stiff, stuffy and sore. Late for work, but when am I not? Braced myself for criticism from the chief banana, but, oddly, received only second-hand compliments from her (since they can't come from her directly...). What a workplace this is.
    Now I'm starting the cleanup from the hurricane that's passed for the last week. If I took pictures of the office, you wouldn't recognize it: I barely can. Drinking over-hot blueberry tea, ruing the choice of a wool sweater for a real "work" workday, playing the On Being a Fucking Idiot mix, feeling melancholy.
    I suppose the work is not going to do itself. Sigh. Yawn.
    Blegh.
    Anyway. Happy New Year; Feliz Año del Cerdo. May all your piggy dreams come true.