There is an ongoing debate on what is the first day of the week. Is it Monday? Or is it Sunday?
For me, it's Sunday. Or whichever day that comes after a day of rest. Sometimes my week goes on for weeks. This reminds me of a joke my godmother told me a long time ago.
Friend: What days do you work?
Godmother: 月、火、水、水、木、金、金 (Mon, Tue, Wed, Wed, Thu, Fri, Fri)
Come to think about it, it's not really a joke, is it? Over New Year's, I asked her why I just can't be satisfied with all that I did last year. Wrong person to ask, apparently.
Now, there is an infinite number of people that work harder and longer hours than I do, but it does feels pretty good to be able to still talk about it, even if it is in the wee hours of the morning.
During work at FTV today, my cousin, who is three years younger than me, and I've only seen a handful of times, messages me on MSN out of the blue. She wanted me to edit a paper she had written for class. She's pursuing a Master's degree in England, and English is not her native language. I told her that I'll look at it after work.
After I got home, she messaged me again and sent me her draft. Expecting to see a three-page paper, it was actually 18. What a pleasant surprise that was at 23h30. She needs it back tomorrow.
After I finished about four pages, I had to stop and do some other things for work.
I guess I will postpone my doctor's appointment until Wednesday, so I can get enough sleep and finish this thing and not look like an ogre in my report tomorrow. It's 2h30. I am already an ogre. Oh well.
Isn't it wonderful to have relatives who value family and can edit English?
When will MY Shrek come rescue me from this madness?