Unwell

I have been unwell latter part of last week, and that has meant a lot of catch up this week.  That, combined with a reduction in my team (there are wheels in Starfleet squeakier than mine), and a confluence of important bits that only I can do (not being big-headed, but only I can use a key tool used for creating costs), means I seem to be experiencing a perfect storm.

And, as if that is not enough, I am also still not feeling one-hundred percent.  I really want to feel right, but I don't.  I want to play tennis tonight, with the new racket I had as one of my birthday presents from A&E, R&R and J&M, but I am reserving the right to miss it, not because I want to, but maybe because I may need to for self-preservation.

It is the time of year when we have to do our submission for our appraisal process, which is a most disagreeable process, on several levels.  The latest challenge is that we have to submit on a web-based tool, which is really rubbish. We should be able to simply cut and paste from our Word master document, but it is not that simple.  Formatting is shot, word count is shot, and I have spent several hours trying to get it trimmed.  To no avail.  It seems that I am not alone, and the trick that I used - actually not so much trick but fiddle - seemed a bit clunky, but it seems that it is the same trick as several of my colleagues have used.

Anyway, it is an irritant, and it will pass.  Just like a bout of diarrhea.

On the home front, in what has become known as the "post-glossing era", I am catching up on the little jobs, a list which is growing due to problems.  The latest issues are the lock on our front room door and the upstairs shower head.  That is my weekend sorted.

We are off to a seventies night at the weekend, and I have had to dug deep in our dressing-up box in the loft, and have pulled out my outfit, which smells just like they are straight from the seventies.  LO's only comment was "you won't catch me wearing that", which is good for me, since I want to wear it myself, but I think that maybe it signifies how ridiculous I will look.

Ho hum.