Night before last, I sat up until almost three AM writing, and my creative streak was still going strong. I woke up late, thanks to my extended evening and the fact that it was my day off... Well, it was, until noon.
Phone rings, number unknown. I, having no clue whom it might be, answer. Oh, snap, owner. Coworker going to hospital? Um, considering those circumstances, sure, I'll come in.
Showered, dressed, and I go out. Get there about 1:30, and for the next four and a half hours it becomes painfully clear that I was SO needed today. My thumbs are still sore from sitting on them that long.
And when I get home, my creative berth has dwindled away. I am bored beyond belief, and gaming holds no interest. There's nothing on television. I piddle about until I get even the semblance of tired, and go to bed, a day wasted.
Here's the rule: There's not enough hours in the day to do what I need to do, not enough days in the week to do what I have to do, not enough weeks in the year to do what I should do, and not enough years in my life to do what I want to do. So something has to give.
Hopefully, someone'll be an assjacket over st Yahoo!, so I can beg for more meaningful employment.