Tears of a clown

So I got in to work this morning and the first thing I was asked was 'can you work overtime this weekend?' Dealt with this in a highly professional manner by bursting into tears.

As it turns out, crying was possible the most constructive response. Think people had known I'd been working long hours, but not quite ~how~ long, as it was all for different projects. Everybody was hugely sympathetic and rushing to take work off my hands. (At ne point I started to think I wouldn't have anything to do next week!) They were also talking to me in the quiet, calming tones usually reserved for people that shouldn't be allowed near sharp objects.

Everyone was so nice that of course I immediately started to worry that I was just over-reatcing. Then I added up my hours for the past two weeks and found out I've done about 130 hours. That's quite a lot, far more overtime than I ever intended, and most of it worked under intense pressure.

We're still under a ridiculous deadline for Monday, and have heaps more work looming after that. But I have a free weekend, and I have been promised freelance helpers next week - and have extracted a promise that I will be allowed to call them my minions. (My boss joked about me bringing a whip in - not sure he'd have said that if he'd realised I have a collection!)

Plus at the end of this, my illustrations will be plastered on hoardings and buses all over the country, which is nice.

I've also booked 6 days off at the end of July. The first three of these lead up to my final poetry deadline, so I should have plenty of writing time. Followed by a weekend and three more days off in which I intend to do absolutely nothing.

I am practicing for that this evening by doing absolutely nothing, then the weekend brings pub and poetry.