I'm stressin' at work this week.
There's this bid that has to go in to the client by Monday at noon and the regular estimator who would have taken the lead on it is out of commission with something very much akin to the flesh-eating virus contaminating one of his legs -- he's been away from work for nearly two months. He's fine, though. He had to have antibiotics intravenously every eight hours for the first couple weeks, and has been medicated and resting at home ever since.
There is currently no risk of him losing a limb. Which is a good thing, as a co-worker of ours quipped, because then he'd be forced into Quebec politics. (If you're familiar with Canadian politics, that is very funny.)
This has created a dearth of estimating talent around the office and I got saddled with a job a little over my head. I have been mentored by a more experienced fellow, but it's a comedy of errors in that he has the old-school experience and I have the technical capability, but the twain ain't been easy bedfellows and so the product of our union is less than it ought to have been. An underdeveloped bastard child; will probably end up in juvie.
From the stressing, a nasty head cold descended upon me yesterday afternoon, and I've been battling back with a regimen of Cold-fX. I'm pretty good today, but a little shaky.
Last night, in addition to my all-natural remedy, I quaffed a beer (for the stress) and a hot mug of Neo Citran (for the cold). I went to bed feeling like I might do all right.
Before midnight the stove timer went off in the kitchen. WTF?! I stumbled out of bed and padded my way across the hardwood to crank the timer back to zero. But the TV was also on. (Another WTF?!) The timer must have woken up Declan, and in his stupor he walked out to the living room, turned on the TV, crawled onto the comfy chair in the foetal position, and threw a blanket over his head to go back to sleep.
I cranked off the stove timer, turned off the TV, and tucked the boy back into bed.
That wouldn't have made the night all that bad. But we have a fiddly stove timer. I turned the dial back to zero, but just a wee hair too far to the left. 60 minutes later I again got up to turn it off. And again, peering though my blurry eyes and squinting in the glare of the suddenly too-bright stove light, accidentally reset it.
This happened FIVE TIMES between midnight and four AM. And then my alarm went off at five, sounding remarkably like the stove timer, though I have it set to the radio.
So this morning I am exhausted, grumpy, stressed, and have a head cold with a small touch of the shakes. But that could also be my large coffee first thing on an empty stomach. Maybe I'll feel better after my apple-banana-granola bar breakfast.