I used to hate ironing the laundry, but now I long for the days where I spent the whole morning ironing shirts. I miss my iron.
I typically spend a couple of hours from midnight to 2am worrying about the stuff that needs to be done, worrying about the stuff that is done already but isn't panning out, and worrying about how I'm going to make it all work.
I wake up in the morning with awful stomach pains. I thought I had a sudden attack of heartburn but it turns out it's stress. Time to simplify.
I've got to tell my boss to downgrade me from an operations manager to just some sort of an assistant, because the responsibility of paying his bills as well as the company's, and getting the events taken care of is starting to take its toll on me.
We went out for St Patrick's to a local pub that was conducting a "St. Baldrick's" fundraiser for children's cancer research. Guys collect donations in support of the cause, then show their own support by getting their head shaved. Four green martinis later, I was completely stress free. Unfortunately that didn't last.
I woke up at my usual midnight hour, worrying.
Here's Steve and I on St. Patrick's, he's wearing a shirt that I ironed:
