how do they do it?

How do people who routinely work 12 hour days manage it? I've put in quite a few of those lately, but I was thinking about time allocation the other night, and I realized that a 10 hour day, when added to commuting time, time to get ready in the morning and wind down at night, and I've not got 8 hours for sleep during the night - goodness help me if I want to accomplish any chores around the house. As a result, my sink is full of unwashed dishes and I have one hamper filled with clean laundry, one with dirty. Shoes are scattered everywhere - that cat has taken to curling up with them:

My fridge is stocked with snacks and frozen dinners rather than food to be cooked - when it's not empty, and that's if I don't either order in or go out.

So that's the answer to where I've been - working. Unfortunately, work doesn't make for interesting blog posts, And my wallet doesn't like all the eating out, especially since I've decided that with all this working I've earned a vacation that I can't really afford. I don't think I care, though. I deserve a break, of the sloth-like variety. I tend to be a go-getter, or at least a go-see-er on vacation, but I intend to go somewhere pretty and not see, instead I will just sit. Sit until I don't know what to do with all the time I've got between 8 hour sleeps, or more, and thoughts of getting up before the sun to watch the clock while I cuddle that cat, thinking about whether or not I'll catch the fast bus, or even the one bus, not the one ten minutes later... well, all those thoughts will be forgotten. It's going to be amazing. And maybe all that sitting will give me more interesting things to say.

Wanted: a happy hour.

(note: written Thursday after work via blackberry)

At this moment my day feels like a comedy of errors. I spent all day yesterday at my client's office instead of mine - it was a productive day, but there was no time to breathe. Today promised to be more of the same, so I took a deep breath on the way to work, and fortified myself with a Firehook creation. Except that there was a figurative fire this morning, and my client and cohort raced to deal with it while I focused on the task we had intended for today. Most of my day was spent on my laptop in my client's office with my iPod plugged in as I struggled to ignore the five other people coming, going, and gabbing.

At 230pm I claimed a sanity break and headed over to my office in order to fight a losing battle with our IT department for an email stuck in the company filters. "But I NEED it!," actually left my mouth. I barely contained the foot stamp that wanted to accompany that statement.

My hour up, and a few losing innings of Boston baseball later, I was back at the client site, fighting with file transfers, and watching the clock. Bill and Anna were going to meet me at a new bar I'd spotted on the modified commute, and there were happy hour sushi specials and fruity drinks waiting for me. "I'm leaving at 530pm," I told myself, without much conviction, "or 545pm at the latest.". That was better. That came out with more force. At 545pm, one last print-out came from the printer. "You can spare 5 more minutes, can't you? We'll all feel super virtuous if we finish this," my client said with a hopeful expression. I agreed, doing my very best to sound gracious, despite knowing we would neither be merely 5 minutes, nor finish tonight*. Sure enough, at 6pm I pulled out the blackberry, and checked the next train arrival. "Ok," I said, "now I HAVE to go." I put on my coat and headed for the door - feeling somewhat guilty for leaving my co-worker behind, but I was done. I hit the down button for the elevator, and thought to myself, "I can make it across the street and down into the station in 8 minutes..."

The elevator came, I entered, let the doors close, and pushed the button for the first floor. The button light flashed, and went out; nothing else happened. I frowned, and pushed the button again. The light flashed and went out. I took a deep breath and pushed the 'door open' button. The same thing happened. "Ok, don't panic," I thought as I pushed every single button. Each one flashed in turn before going dark, and still no motion in the elevator. Now here's the thing, I have an irrational fear of being trapped in the elevator. Not in the Speed, some crazy guy's set a bomb and we have to hope Keanu Reeves comes to save the day in the worst movie I own that I can inexplicably watch over and over, kind of fear. An elevator just seems such a helpless sort of place to get trapped. No cell service, no one instantly on the horn to get things moving. I mean, if your metro train gets stuck underground, people know from the get-go. Also, there are people in the train with you. I'm very good at being calmer than the people around me in stressful situations, but you leave me alone, and I go from regular day to freak-out in no time. As evidenced by the fact that all of this went through my head in the 60 seconds between the last button pushed and the elevator kicking into motion. Of course, when you're in an elevator that's not responding to any buttons, but suddenly starts moving - not exactly comforting! Turns out, a woman had called the elevator from the floor below mine. The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and I burst out, almost shouting, "Don't get on this elevator!" She was taken aback, but followed me to the stairs, and I started jogging down the stairs on an ankle that gave a little twinge as I hit the bottom flight of stairs. Of course, without thinking, I'd headed for the set of stairs on the opposite side of the building than I'm used to, and came out in a bare, white hallway, thinking, "I just want out of the building!" I was almost running by this point. The woman following me had to give me directions to the lobby, and I didn't even stop to say thanks, I just headed for the door. I jogged across the street, called my client while walking the block to the Metro station to warn him off the elevators, and headed down the escalator to the sound of a train pulling out of the station. I hit the platform, saw 6 minutes on the board for the next train, flexed my ankle, and let out a quiet, but intense "f___!"

I caught a bus straight out of the Metro and made it to happy hour a mere 10 minutes late, where the drinks were pretty great, the crowd was out of control (and overly gelled), and the decision was made that Anna and I were more Monday-night kind of people. So we let the cucumber mojitos do their things and headed to a lower-key locale for the rest of the night.

*They did finish Thursday night, but not until 7pm.

buckle your safety belts...

It's going to be a bumpy ride through February. Yesterday at work I was organizing my calendar for the month, and I'm already stressed out about all the stuff we're trying to get done this month - and it's only the 4th! I can't wait for the last week of the month, when I'll be in Boston with the whole family, even little Dumpster! His auntie is taking him to the Museum of Science and the New England Aquarium, and she's hoping there's still snow on the ground since his mean momma moved to Tampa, where hurricanes are more common than snowfall. But for now, it's time to start the day, or attempt a re-boot, as I woke up to the phone before my alarm clock - it was a woman about work. "I'm sorry to call so early..." Let me tell you what, if you call at 6:15am, you'd better have something to say that couldn't go in an email, and that's all I'll say about that.

Only mathematicians...

Once again I found myself in a room surrounded by mathematicians and engineers. This time it wasn't beaches and ocean waters outside the meeting room, but the hustle and bustle of New York City, and all the people watching that goes along with it. Staring at equations, I found myself thinking many times, "only mathematicians." Only mathematicians schedule a two-day workshop for Friday and Saturday. In New York City.

So OK. I had my nights off dinner plans made. I could make it through. I was hopping the train at the end of the day Saturday so that I could have Sunday at home and breakfast with the boys. But back on point.

Only mathematicians still use slides and an overhead projector. He'd even written additional notes by hand with a marker. He stood up there looking like Geoffrey's Marmoset and talking so earnestly about Fourier domains. There was also the engineer who poked himself in the nose with the expandable pointer. He was absolutely shocked when it happened, too. I'm not sure why, I saw it coming.

But my absolute favorite is when academics are accidentally dirty while giving a talk. It happens more often than you'd think. Either that or I think about sex entirely too often - also a possibility. This time it was, "if you push me hard, you might not like the answers I give, but if you stroke me softly, you'll be more satisfied." I find myself looking around at these moments to see if anyone else has caught the double entendre. I'm generally alone. Probably for the best - if I caught another knowing eye I'd laugh out loud. And I don't laugh softly.

on travel.

I just got back from a quick trip up to NYC for a math workshop. While waiting for a friend at a restaurant I actually wrote out a post about the meeting itself - mathematicians are funny. But this weekend I haven't had time to log in and type it up. I actually worked both days this weekend, and I started to elaborate on that fact, but just sounded whiny. I've worked the weekend away, and am hoping to take some time off at the end of the week to compensate. We'll see how that goes. I wasn't the only person frustrated with having to work over the weekend, however. As the train pulled into Union Station, a man across the aisle, completely content to hold an inane conversation with his cute, young, co-worker while the train was moving, suddenly became "the guy who must be first off the train." Now I sympathize with that guy, I am that guy - to a point. Saturday night, I wanted to turn around and say, "Look, buddy, sigh one more time. Because that really lets me and everyone ese in front of you in the aisle know just how much we're in your way." You should have seen his face when I ended up in front of him in the cab line... the evil part of me grinned.

daytripper

It was a busy weekend, followed by a twelve hour work day yesterday, so I'm looking forward to the long holiday weekend. I took the train up to Philly yesterday. Well, first I had to run for the train - I might have left the house a few minutes after I intended to. I made it, though, and just an hour and a half later we were sitting in a meeting room at Penn. Day trips are a little disorienting, because you start at stop at home, just like any other day, but somewhere in the middle you find yourself in a location that's outside your normal realm. We were delayed coming back, of course, which meant I got home ready for someone else to cook me dinner (yay, pub!) and hit the sack. Which is what I did. Not very exciting.

kickin' it geek-style.

I spent the first half of last week sitting in a room full of men talking about theoretical mathematics. It's been an interesting time. The only women at the meeting work for the government. There were guys wearing birth-control glasses, and not retro-nerd-is-now-hip glasses, but honest-to-goodness I-do-not-have-sex-with-anyone-not-myself glasses. Preemptive comb-overs. Socks with sandals. Looking anywhere but the face of the person they're talking to. We're rocking some serious savant-type people skills. It makes for some very awkward silences. On the other hand, they've got kids, which means somewhere there is a woman who let them leave the house like that. Among other things.

I've learned a lot, though. And the meeting was at a resort on the California coast, so, you know, rough assignment.