At Long Last
At long last... it's Friday!The short version of the story is that we landed a new client last week who needed a pretty intense Lindsay-specific project turned around in record-setting time. I lived, ate, breathed, and slept (very occasionally) this project for almost a week, but the final details were wrapped up around 3.30 this afternoon and I am DONE.
I guess the good news is that Geoff was working all week too, so I wasn't totally ignoring him - he was ignoring me too. Maybe not the healthiest thing ever, but whatever. If nothing else, I know we're both really looking forward to this weekend and actually getting to spend some time together.
I'm just wrapping up a few last details, then we're off to the Cocoon Christmas Party. It's sure to be an adventure: lots of karaoke and some sort of impromptu dance party, if the past is any indicator. I'll post pictures next week if they're not too embarrassing :)
Here's what's on the agenda for this weekend:
- SLEEP IN (top of my list)
- Finish my Christmas shopping (wish me luck)
- Wish I hadn't participated in Friday night Cocoon karaoke (yep)
- Finish writing out all the still-blank cards that have been sitting in our office for a month (procrastination is next to godliness... besides, how many ways can you possibly say 'thanks for the stuff' without resorting to foreign languages or totally insincere cliches)
- Do some laundry (very important)
- Book a mani/pedi (critical)
- Buy 240g of meat, then take a picture of it (ask Kari-Ann)
- Eat more Christmas cookies (if I put in on a list, it feels like an accomplishment and not a failure)
- Think quasi-seriously about going for a run, then decide it's too cold (hey, just being realistic)
Labels: My Life
posted by Lindsay @ 6:06 PM
2 Comments:
Ugh, now they're using "8 or 9 ounces" to measure Junior. Come on. Keep it consistent. It's all very confusing for an English major.
In other news, I read *most* of the most amazing book on the weekend. Don't wait too long to tell me your news (when it comes) because you will absolutely KILL yourself reading this book. It's like it was designed for you and me. It's everything you wanted to know told to you straight up. LOVE it. I kept giggling in bed and The Boy kept asking what. So I'd read it aloud to him. And he'd roll his eyes. You think he'd learn to quit asking.
Wait.
You're about a million weeks pregnant when you *finally* tell Chubbs and I about it. And now - if and when it happens for us - you want us to tell you immediately.
Hang on... I know there's word for that... Let me shake out the old English major cobwebs... Oh, yeah: HYPOCRITICAL.
:)
Love you!
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