Break me off a piece o' that Kit-Kat bar.
On second thought, keep your freakin' Kit-Kat bar. Sometimes, one needs a break that involves something more substantial than chocolate coated wafers.
Jason's on a killer project at work that's basically sucking the life right out of him. He had to take a 2 hour conference call at 3am on Wednesday night. Or is that Thursday morning? Regardless, a TWO-HOUR MEETING in the middle of the night. Oh the joys of a multi-continent job.
And although I fully admit that I've been taking part in some very fun extra-curriculars lately, I too have been finding myself feeling a bit bogged down by all the housewife-y tasks of late. Make fun. Say what you will. I don't really care. Bottom line is that if I have to talk to one more stupid BA Executive Club representative to make sure that both Jason and I get our miles from the trip to Budapest, or if Wells Fargo doesn't get their isht together and help me sign up for their "New and Improved!!!" online mortgage paying system even though the old one worked just freaking fine thankyouverymuch, or if I get one more stinking tax document from HM Revenue & Customs to fill out, I might cut somebody.
Therefore, Jason and I have booked ourselves into a gorgeous hotel/spa in Norwich, East Anglia for a recovery weekend. I don't even care if it rains all weekend. I just want to go away. So. Go away we shall. And hopefully, we'll return on Sunday feeling refreshed and revived. And ready to tackle another week of work, stupid BA Executive Club reps, Wells Fargo online catastrophies, and taxes.
This whole "adult" thing isn't all it's cracked up to be you know...