Thank You for Smoking

And thank you, oh Lord of the Files, for dumping so much work on my desk that I ate my breakfast (at my desk) at 8am, my lunch (at my desk) at 5.50pm and kept me at the office until 8pm... only to come home and sit at another desk for the next three hours or so while I draft a media plan for an event in two days time which is required to obtain major metro coverage.

Happy days.

Then again, I always work late Mondays. Not that my life is overly structured or anything, but I can tell the day of the week by what I'm doing. It's working-late-Monday, dinner-with-the-folks-Tuesday, sleepover-with-the-Boy-Wednesday, late-night-shopping-Thursday, and Date-Night-Sleepover-Friday.

Inevitably followed by Night-at-Home-with-the-Boy-watching-Iron-Chef/Rock Kwiz-and-drinking-too-much-because-nobody-has-to-drive Saturday, and Hungover-Try-And-Get-the-Chores-Done-While-Paying-Bills-and- Taking-Care-Of-Personal-Grooming Sunday.

Actually I lie. Sometimes we set the VCR to record Iron Chef and watch it in bed Sunday morning instead of Meet The Press. But only when we're feeling really really rebellious and we've actually bestirred ourselves to get tickets for something the night before.

God it's exciting to be me.