My workload has just been doubled. Unwittingly. It was always the plan, with the launch of a new site within my company, but hell. The workload was hectic to begin with, now it's just insane. It's scary when you're being avalanched in by stress, time management and hours of organisation and writing.
I'm starting to think I should've looked at more career options after school.
I actually should've been a pirate. Attended pirate academy, keelhauled a few hoons, hijacked a ship and lived a life at sea looting and pillaging. While imbibing flipping great wodges of rum.
So after the day was over, I henceforth picked up my cuz, drove to the Jolly Roger and met my mates there for a pizza smashing and a few gin and tonics.
Something's happened. Maybe I haven't been to the Jolly in a while (a month or two at least), but cripes! And C agrees – can the age level drop by 30%?
Shitters, unfamiliar faces, students...and stern looks when I eyed out the soap dispensers with a wanton eye. Even had to sit on my hands so as to not repeat the Let's Steal A Soap Dispenser Whenever We Get Smashed At The Jolly process. Of which we were cunning thieves, might I add.
It was nice to catch up with my mates again though – especially Moogs whom I haven't seen in ages. We compared belly sizes: the 94.7 cycle race is gonna be a serious challenge this year, by the looks of things. Due to excessive Creole food, and I presume too many Maccy D's burgers for Moogs, we've been in better shape. Except my belly was brown and his was decidedly...English Rose Albino.
E has to dye her hair, or doesn't have to, but has been recommended to, dye her hair brown, because being blonde, and moving to Egypt – they said they'd try and trade her in for camels. She's moving to flippin' Egypt. It's pretty shitty for us hoons stuck here.
C and I realised there is, in fact, much gossip flying around this town. Much. Some of it bordering on the ridiculous as well. Joburg never fails to disappoint when it comes to wife-swopping.
Back to another work-filled and hefty day. I wonder when the burn-out will hit. Four or five days after returning from a holiday? Fuck, imagine if I didn't have a holiday?