October is my hell-month on the job. My ordinary workplace dream, time spent wandering a pretty site with funny cats, is replaced by a month of dealing with the public and running all over the site for hours, making sure that the site is ready for the influx of people, and then running all over the site to make sure that the place is cleared and closed.
Aunt Snow, who has been waging a one-woman campaign against beauty deficit disorder, put up a post commemorating Dylan Thomas' centenary. In her post, she linked to Poem in October. Well, I have my own October poem:
Eyes are droopy,
Get no sleep,
I won't weep.
One more weekend,
Then I'm free, friend.
You know your life has taken a nutty turn when you actually look forward to November.