Working for the weekend

Why do Fridays always have to be so busy? We were at work before 8 o’clock this morning (John had the morning shift), and we were hoping to have everything done so we could leave closer to four. You know, after eight hours of work (we generally don’t take lunch breaks). But no. John’s shift was fairly busy, so he couldn’t do his regular work, and of course everyone interrupted him all day (because he knows everything here and everyone needs his help), which delayed his work even more. And a couple of extra things got dropped in his lap at the (somewhat) last minute this afternoon. Poor John, so in demand. I don’t blame him. It’s not his fault he’s always willing to drop what he’s doing to help his coworkers. (Wait – yes it is! But I like that about him.) It’s just a shame we don’t get paid overtime, since we put in a ten-hour day today.

Surprisingly, this ten-hour day did not drag. I wasn’t having a good time, but I didn’t stare at the clock. Much.

Three-day weekend! Woohoo! Lots of nothing (and a couple of somethings) planned.

Update: The worst part about working more than ten hours is that we left the dogs locked up for almost 12.  Poor things.  They raced for the backyard.

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