I've written two entries and not posted because they were, in the end, crap.
I counted how many hours I have worked this week: 64 hours in seven days, and I also squeeked in time at the library in the mornings.
Yesterday, I re-organized the basement at the bookstore (again). After ten minutes of lifting boxes and moving books, I realized there was no point in dirtying my shirt: I worked for several hours in my bra, sweating buckets while lifting enormous boxes. That's probably good porn material, but the reality of it all is that I ended up with a broken back. Although I've learned the lift-with-your-legs, not-with-your-back technique, it was physically impossible in the 2 ft X 2 ft space I had to work with. So, bam. Something hurts on my lower right-hand side. No worries.
Later however, after the store was closed, I worked for awhile in the office. Once I finished, I headed downstairs. On my way down, I slipped and fell, breaking the fall on my back. Normally people don't like to break falls using their precious backs, but I'm sadistic that way. I had tried to use my hand to grab something, but my hand landed on the ladder, which promptly just fell on top of me instead of providing any sort of stable force. The back pain? Severe.
THEN, today - after ten hours of work - I carried boxes to a car that we drove to a truck into which I lifted said boxes. The driver pinched a nerve and is not allowed to lift, which meant I did the lifting. Although I began sweating buckets within seconds of my workout, I opted to keep the shirt on this time. I was, after all, on a major boulevard. I lifted lots and lots of boxes, and really? I'm very tired now.
Anyway, point of this post: I love my job, but I recognize that I have overworked myself physically in the last few days. I have also probably overworked myself mentally, but I am less willing to admit fatigue in that department. I haven't seen a good friend in almost two weeks, even though I would really like to... Time is a serious issue. I need to do even just simple things like go to the grocery. I'm not complaining; I like what I'm doing. I just wish I could have four more hours per day and the energy needed to do stuff with them.
It will come. This week, I will see my hours reduced significantly upon Vegas' return. However, I am glad to know what doing this sort of thing with one's life entails: long hours, patience, and one helluva strong back.
One unexpected bonus: I'm getting seriously buff.
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