I spent a week and a half living out of a suitcase, getting training for work and then catching up on the work I missed while I was in training (which, let’s face it, is a vicious cycle in and of itself). I thought I had things under control and headed out the door yesterday morning full of vim and vigor.
I should so totally have gone back to bed. Or never gotten up at all.
I hadn’t even made it to the office before my blackberry started blowing up with emails. “The sky is falling!!! The sky is falling!!!”
My witty rejoinder?
So I fast-forward my fruit-shopping at WalMart (necessary for breakfast; can’t tackle the end of the world on an empty stomach!) and pull into the parking lot to find…
That nobody else is there yet. The world was apparently ending and everyone was absolutely cool with me being the only person on-hand to try to keep things together. When the zombie apocalypse comes, my friends, we’re totally screwed.
Things drag on, I simultaneously try to put out the fire and get my computer started, and other people start to show up. As the day passes, we find out that the sky is, in fact, NOT falling, or at least isn’t falling as rapidly and in such large pieces as previously thought.
I’m shocked by this turn of events. Really. Aren’t you?
Anyway, one thing leads to another, and we realize that while the sky isn’t falling, it’s possibly starting to show some wear and tear around the edges and maybe even crack in a few places. We spent all day today trying to fix it, only to find out we’ve got cracks spreading and growing.
All of which means that I get to drag my butt into the office on a Saturday morning, cancel my plans to go to an awesome BBQ on Sunday in case the sky does indeed decide to fall, and probably work a half-day on Monday.
So much for using the three-day weekend to catch up on sleep and my social life…