I ought to be working on something. I’m not. After two wonderful and mostly productive days off, I’ve had two horrendous, frustrating, getting nothing done kind of days at work. Not a vacation hangover, mind you. This is the usual shit — two and a half people (one of my co-workers only counts as half because half of what she does has nothing to do with what the other two of us do) trying to do the work of three or four. And they keep adding more. And there’s the frustrating, tedious work. It’s exhausting. And tonight, it seems to be catching up with me. And I really should stop starting my sentences with conjunctions. But everything feels like an afterthought at this point.
I’ve had nebulous stuff in my head about language and symbols and stuff for a while now, so I think I’m going to make myself a big mug of tea and poke half-heartedly at something that might resemble research but not really.