Writing in My Sleep

I haven't posted anything in several days, not because I've got nothing to say, but because every time I think I have a spare moment to try and string words together with some semblance of coherence, something or someone demands my attention. So here it is, nearly 2:30 in the morning, and I took my 1/4 of an actifed half an hour ago, and it just hit me.

CL, our most prolific originator of loans, left for Spain on Saturday. I spent all day Friday going over his files with him, to the point where I'm still a day behind. I thought about going into the office over the weekend, and then decided there was nothing so pressing that waiting would kill it. I like my job, but no one can pay me enough to make giving up my weekends worth while, especially when we're going to be away for the next two.

B, our office manager, is also away this week, though his absence is less strongly felt. However, the fact that CL, who acts as head loan officer, and B, who signs the paychecks, are both out means that E. and VirtualP (so named because he manages to originate and close loans without ever spending more than an hour in the office) are even more lax about showing up on time than they are normally. This means that I'm covering CL's files, my own files, my normal duties, and mopping up after E, while stopping to take new calls that normally would go to VirtualP. and E. And while if CL were around I'd be happy about more of my own files (because more files=more commission=new house that much faster), this week I don't really have the time or inclination to schmooze clients.

So, Fuzzy's brother and his family will be in LA this weekend. We thought about flying down to LA on Southwest Early on Sunday morning, spending time with them, and then flying back, and then balked because it'd cost about $400 because we didn't know their plans soon enough. We're entertaining the idea of driving, but if we drive, it means an overnight trip, paying for someone to take care of the dogs, paying for a hotel, and losing a much-needed idle Saturday. So I think Flying might be the better plan. After all, Southwest is essentially a bus with wings, and it's only an hour from SJC to LAX. Barely enough time for juice and peanuts.

We'll be in Minneapolis over the 4th of July weekend. Minnesota in summer is not on my list of vacation spots, but Fuzzy's best friend from college is getting married, and it would mean a lot to him for us to be there. So we're going. The irony is that we declined to attend Fuzzy's parents anniversary thing in Indiana the same weekend, months ago, because we thought we'd be busy. Well, we thought we'd be busy with work, but since we visited them last year, and they've announced they're coming for Thanksgiving (plan: be in new bigger house by Thanksgiving), they can cope.

I have a thousand and one things simmering in my brain, and yet all I've written about are stupid weekend plans. I went to bed last night with a specific phrase in my head, and now it's gone. I hate that. People say, “Keep paper and a pen near the bed,” and I do, really, because my bedside table is home to part of my vast collection of foofy stationery, but actually moving the dogs so I can reach the light, which would wake Fuzzy, and blind me just isn't worth the efford. I think I need a voice activated tape player.

Well, it's been four days since I purchased any new techo-toys. So…maybe.

CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Writing in My Sleep by Melissa Bartell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.