I’m enjoying the fact that my appetite appears to have lessened, but I can’t help but think I’m testing my luck somehow. Usually around now my stomach hates me and starts actively trying to kill me. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m ready and waiting for it.

I haven’t had supper yet, and Wednesday is often pizza night for me. I could get adventurous and go to Boston Pizza for dinner… haven’t had that since the DB’s parents came to visit, so it’s been a solid few months. Suddenly this idea is sounding better, though I think I’m going to have to find real pants to make this happen. Damnit.

I work from 7:30-3:30. Today I stayed until around 4, since my carpool lady was leaving a bit later. I get home, and from 5-6:30 or so, I get a flood of emails flying back and forth on the blackberry with lists of things to do tomorrow morning. *sigh* I was really enjoying having a quieter time after last week’s neverending hell week. Yes, it was so bad it got emphasized.

The DB and I had our perpetual semi not argument/debate/discussion over who’s more tired/who’s been working the longest without a break last night as we were trying to get to sleep. I had to remind him that I was the one that woke him up Saturday morning, since he’d asked to be woken by noon — so I kept waking up and dozing off all morning, keeping one eye on the time. I don’t know what he has against alarm clocks, but he tried to blame me Friday night for not having woken him at 8 like he asked me to — instead he just pointed out that I was asleep as well. I know for a fact he didn’t ask me to wake him, he just said he was going to sleep for a bit.

I also pointed out that he was going to have a break in February for that stupid family day, whereas if not for the trip I’ve booked in March to see my grandmother, my next day off is/would be Easter. Which is April 10th and 13th this year.

And you know what? Somehow I imagine I’m going to be working through it.

I’m just feeling burnt out. I worked through Christmas, so I don’t even have that to fall back on. At my previous job, I’d take a day now and again as a mental health day, but here and now I don’t feel justified in doing that. There’s always someone who’s working harder and/or longer that’s toughing it out, and not that I don’t think my manager is awesome, but sometimes I feel as if I’m being made to feel guilty about asking for time off, like there isn’t someone there more deserving, and why aren’t I working harder, longer, more hours than everyone else?

I mentioned it to a friend of mine at work and she said she felt the same way, so there’s that at least. And not that I’m at all calling it a vacation, but my boss was off for a decent period of time as combination stress/looking after her husband leave, so she at the very least had a break from work.

I don’t know, I’m just whining. I like my job, I like my coworkers, I’m just having a hard time lately with the hours. The first while, I was at least going to bed at a semi-reasonable hour. Now, not so much — I either end up staying up and going to bed shortly before the DB, or I can’t sleep anyhow, because he’s watching television in the living room and it travels right up the stairs. I end up wearing ear plugs to sleep, which helps a little bit, but I’m still tired because I’ve been up that much longer.

And the best part of all of it, the part that makes me so frustrated sometimes? He talks about how tired he is, and half the time he’ll come home and pass out on the after work until I wake him for supper.

*sigh* I love looking forward to the next stages, when he’ll have his own store, and there could be children running around… It’ll probably get to the point where I have to check out my facebook page to remember what he looks like.

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