In the past 3 weeks, I have written, and submitted:
That’s 5 articles, 60 staff profiles, a catalogue, 6 million pages of real estate copy and PR materials. This doesn’t include the 6 other articles I researched and edited, and general assorted crap eg blog posts and rubbishy e-mails.
No wonder I feel and look like shite.
However, in return for my pains, the following events have occurred:
(to be read out Yankee-style, in the voice of Slim Pickens in Dr Strangelove)
-One press junket to the Hong Kong jewellery fair, all expenses paid
-One free facial, with bonus chemical peel (resulting in red streaks, spots and peeling skin thus contributing to general appearance of pestilence)
-One green tea with ginger biscuit on side and frangipani flower
-One possible new office space lined up, with assorted events/dramas therein
-One final meeting of the NEIS course – yee-haw!
-One new kitty cat (now named Tabasco), for furry feelings of wellbeing and gooey contentment
Geesus, it’s just getting ridiculous. I’m sitting in the backyard surrounded by flapping papers, dictionaries and cigarette butts. Tabasco is wailing piteously inside the door, as she can’t be let outside until she’s been given the snip.
I almost feel like Carrie Bradshaw, except without the skinny bod, pouffy dresses, Mr Big-style romantic foil, four witty friends of differing hair colour/orientation/wardrobes and – er – general air of glamour.