Excepting it's Thursday.
Five conferences calls today. Count them: OneTwoThree FourFive. Several, thankfully, went better than I could have hoped. But all the same: five. And I worked from home, which always makes things a little more manic than they have to be.
Home, you say? Yes, because to add to the Five Conference Calls, I have Two Sick Children (you have to love the new math here at the GW's place). One of whom vomited the night away, as I laundered into the wee hours of the morning in response. It looks like the flu, sounds like the flu, does everything but quack like the flu, but it. is. not. the. flu. Because we did the test yesterday, and so we know: it is not the swine flu or any other flu, thank you. And since both of them have it, it is also not some tick-borne illness, and therefore I will not be searching private and ticklish parts of small boys for travellers brought home from Colorado. Thank God for small miracles.
So my phone, my sick boys and I spent the day together, the sounds of The Princess Bride, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and Johnny Quest mingling with hours of meaningless legal mumbo-jumbo. It may have been frantic, but it still beats the hell out of the office.