Every day, around 4:30 pm, I am faced with a decision: try to wrestle my brain into working on something for another hour or hour and a half, or go home and rest. I almost always end up doing neither. I stay at work, because even though no one here cares about optics even a little, I can’t convince my neurotic A-type brain it is ok to go. In return, my neurotic A-type, burnt out, tired, pregnant brain gives up*.
I read blogs.
I stress about how I am not getting anything done and look at my calendar for the week to see where I will find time for looming things.
I write this blog**.
I do small, weird, productive but non-essential things, that later I might appreciate but which I’m pretty sure are not really a useful use of my time.
I google my current pregnancy questions***.
I eventually realize it is now almost 6 pm, and it is time to go get a bus to not be super late home. The next day, the same thing.
* this is not a new battle, but in previous years if I stayed and managed to refocus, that last hour was often the most productive of my entire day.
** e.g., this entry.
*** e.g., whether it is crazy to be jaunting off to Capital City this weekend, without Pea, 35w4d pregnant and 8 hours from my hospital (but to then spend my days IN an excellent hospital, so there’s that). I am taking the train, and am going to enforce rest on myself. I feel this is a calculated and reasonable risk, given good weather forecasts and how awful I will feel if I don’t see my dad between Canadian Thanksgiving (mid-October) and March (once Spud has had a first round of shots).