I'm beginning to seriously regret coming home from Rome. After the week I've had, you could hardly blame me.
It's not been all bad. I had an unexpected commission, with the possibility of more to come, and I have been pitching another story (no news yet but I'm hopeful). And I caught up with my best friend mid-week on the phone - we have both been so busy we haven't seen each other since just before Xmas, so that was good.
Technology has driven me to the point of insanity though - first the keyboard died, then the printer (and I still haven't had time to source a replacement). Today, my email client refused to work just moments after I'd typed an important lengthy mail to someone but before I'd hit Send. I had no alternative but to exit the programme and lose the mail. Then the same problem recurred on reopening and starting again - this time the cursor vanished. I finally got it to work again, don't ask me how.
One of my clients hasn't paid, which means I need to chase up on Monday, my veg box failed to get delivered yesterday and another client dumped urgent work on me after 4pm and I had no alternative but to do it immediately because of a 3 hour time difference.
What really pushed me over the edge was the cleaner. I took a short break mid-afternoon and nipped up to the bedroom. To cut a very long story short, suffice to say the floor was covered in pillow feathers. I wasn't going to vacuum it up myself - that's what I pay the cleaner for - and I was buggered if the carpet was going to stay like that for a whole week. So I rang the cleaner and told him to return and finish the job. But not before I'd had a solo temper tantrum. I effed and blinded, kicked things in a rage and was shocked at how heavily I'd overreacted. My heart was pounding with the stress and it took me some time to calm down.
I'm glad it's a bank holiday weekend. I clearly need time out to relax. I feel tired out and fed up but can't put my finger on why. I'll be glad when things return to normal.