Here I am in the middle -- well, mercifully, slightly past the middle -- of what is essentially a 56-hour work week. The one before that was 64 hours. (That's without overtime, of course, since these long stints inevitably straddle two different weeks for payment purposes. I'm not even counting the meeting on my day off that I did get overtime for.) Sigh. I miss the good old days when we had an extra person, and one person (or even two people!) needing to take off or switch their shifts didn't inevitably screw over someone else. In this case, I confess, I kind of did it to myself, by being far too nice when people ask me if I can swap schedules. But it's not like this sort of thing is entirely unusual.
I'm just getting tired of sitting in that chair. Well, mostly I'm just tired, period. These early mornings don't so much agree with me. I've got more of those ahead of me, too, but the good news is that come Wednesday I have three days off, without having to spend any of it adjusting my sleep schedule around. Luxury!