I write this when I really should be crawling into bed … a bed that is not my own, the second bed not my own that I am sleeping in this week. I have, since Sunday night, gone to sleep, woken back up at 130 Monday morning to pick up Sean from a delayed flight, gone back to sleep, woken up groggy a few hours later, gone to my doctor’s office for a blood pressure check, then driven to Oakland airport, flown to Burbank, attended 4 hours of meetings, worked for two more hours, then driven to San Diego, slept a few hours, woken up in San Diego, worked out, sat in a conference room for 8 hours, attending one meeting and multitasking on a bunch of other things that there’s never enough time to do, met with friends for dinner and driven back from San Diego to Burbank.
I barely have the energy to get through my days, let alone produce the level of work I would prefer to produce. I don’t have the energy to fight the battles that don’t really seem worth fighting anymore on the project; I am just laying low, trying to do my job as best I can in the increasingly toxic environment, and pushing back where I need to in order to maintain a very baseline level of sanity and a life.
If I couldn’t skydive and escape (almost completely) on weekends I’m not sure I could keep up this pace in this environment. Even so, the two days of each weekend aren’t enough to recharge me for the entire week; it’s just Tuesday and I’m ready to not set the alarm and miss the beginning of my meeting tomorrow. I won’t, but it’s tempting.
Right now, I will sleep, knowing that I may have a slightly better outlook tomorrow. At the very least, it’s hump day.