Cherubs, what a nightmare.
I was tired from clearing out my husband's home office on Sunday (and it's not done yet because of all the mattresses piled in the corner, the mountain of shoe boxes to be taken to recycling, etc.), and when I tried to connect the snazzy ergonomic monitor and the snazzy ergonomic keyboard to my ol' lemon of a laptop, the cables didn't fit. So I got out my beloved if retired old cherry laptop (whose keys now stick) and fit them into that. But then I discovered that I couldn't type very well on the ergonomic keyboard, and setting up my work email account etc. was just agony.
In the end I ended up back in the linen cupboard/library in the big library with my ol' lemon. And I was working so hard, I forgot a conference call and then when I got summoned to another conference call, I couldn't figure out how to get into it and then when I did, my computer sound was off and I had to shut everything down and reboot. I missed the whole meeting.
My assignment--which I chose--apparently involves an ounce of poison buried in a ton of sugar, but I still haven't found the poison, and so I spent the day reading and reading and reading and trying not to freak out.
When poor B.A. got home and slooooooooowly started finding his gym clothes and slooooooooooooowly putting them on and sloooooooowly explaining to someone on the phone why he couldn't do something on June 1, I went totally nuts and ran off to the train and Pilates without him.
Halfway to the railway station, I stopped and asked myself what I was doing. Pilates is to help B.A. recover from all his muscle pain--which has got worse, not better, since his operation, so there was no point to my running off to Pilates without him. But on the other hand, my muscles were hurting now, and I needed Pilates. So I continued onto the train and hoped that B.A. wasn't too doolally to figure out how to get to Pilates on his own. I was so relieved when I saw him through the studio's glass door.
So we both had our Pilates class, and then we had a dinner at the one bistro we know of in the New Town open on Mondays, and that was great. The day ended well, but oh my gosh. The stress of the MESS and the TECHNOLOGY.
Normally journalism is so easy. I do the reading, talk to the people, make the notes, sit down and write the story up. But yesterday for some reason it was just hell.