Monday blogless

You may wonder why I have not had my notorious Monday-mega-post-attack, flooding cyberspace with post-weekend mind-drivel.

Well, wonder no more!

The "you all do reception duty because we don't feel like hiring a replacement for the woman who quit" schedule has kicked in, which meant the morning was spent answering phones and directing traffic. I also made myself useful and re-did the entire postbox list - finally aligning it to the labels actually on each postbox, and deleting owners who moved on years ago. Blessed be me!

But thanks to that little 4-hour stint, I have yet to get going on my ACTUAL work here (like that darned website that STILL isn't live, the non-existant yearbook publication, my course manual and other stuff), and Monday's nearly over!

So - here, have a work-related quote while I go do something useful:

It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me: the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart.

You cannot give me too much work; to accumulate work has almost become a passion with me: my study is so full of it now, that there is hardly an inch of room for any more. I shall have to throw out a wing soon.

And I am careful of my work, too. Why, some of the work that I have by me now has been in my possession for years and years, and there isn't a finger-mark on it. I take a great pride in my work; I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.

But, though I crave for work, I still like to be fair. I do not ask for more than my proper share.

But I get it without asking for it--at least, so it appears to me--and this worries me.

George says he does not think I need trouble myself on the subject. He thinks it is only my over-scrupulous nature that makes me fear I am having more than my due; and that, as a matter of fact, I don't have half as much as I ought. But I expect he only says this to comfort me.

- from "Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the Dog)" by Jerome K Jerome. One of my all-time favourite reads, and available to read online.