Every morning, I leave for work at 6 am. In my past lives, I would just be entering into the first stages of coherence. Now I am dressed, made up, equipped with the tools of my trade and my lunch, and in the car, listening to the woes of Edmond Dantes.
I get to work at 7, usually on the dot. If I leave a minute past 6, I'm doomed.
I start to work in the tiny conference room. Chopra shows up around 9. Maeve has usually called me at least once by then.
When I have things ready to go out (and I am amazed at my productivity), I run them past her first. I get a brief and satisfactory, "Exactly what I had in mind. Good." in reply.
I have lunch. I read a little bit. Chopra and I talk. I gave him his first tangerine yesterday.
Oh, I had my first staff meeting in over a year today. I am one of two women in a group containing nine men. Just like the good old days.
I finish up the afternoon. Maeve has allowed me to work from 7 - 3:30 pm, but I send her a quick IM telling her what I did during the day and that I'm leaving.
Back in the car, I abandon every resolve I've made during the day to vacuum when I get home, to cook this or that. To clean. To not get into my pajamas when I walk in the door.
I listen once more to the plight of Monsieur Dantes and anticipate the death of l'abbe Feria.
When I walk in the door, the weight of the day comes crashing down on me. I make myself a bowl of oatmeal for dinner. I read. And then I go to bed.
Last night I managed to stay awake until 8:30. I don't think I'm going to be so lucky tonight.
Cousin Karen is coming next weekend. Gee, I'd better rest up for that.
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