Notes on working on Good Friday

I am working on Good Friday. 

I am sitting here wearing a t-shirt which as the words 'Hell was boring" emblazoned across my tits. 

I'm saving the "See you next Tuesday" t-shirt for tomorrow. 

I have emergency ice cream in the fridge. 

I'll probably need to go on a run to find some eye drops in the not too distant future. 

I'm taking regular breaks, whether that be to put the washing out on the line, or take out the rubbish, or kissing the cat's head while he sleeps (because he loves being woken up, he does)

And I know that I'll keep on getting requests every ten or so minutes - most if which I will ignore til the top of the hour. 

And I know that regularly yelling, "WILL YOU FUCK OFF!!" at my computer at regular intervals does help. 

And I'm enjoying the subversive housework I'm doing every time I finish a chore. Next job is to mop the kitchen floor. 

And I'm looking forward to the following: 

• a movie with Blarney early Sunday afternoon
• a swim with Jay on Sunday evening
• a  movie with my Punjabi kid brother on Monday afternoon
• a couple of sessions at the gym (looking to go before I start work tomorrow)

And strangely, I'm looking forward to having my gall bladder out so that I can have ten days off from this madness in a few weeks time. 

And I'm relishing the knowledge that this all goes live next weekend and I will be in Adelaide. 

And I know that working on Good Friday, the day that Jesus died makes me a heathen. 

Oh well. 

Today's song: