It's the Monday blues

First bar:
The mozzie bites are back. I mean the itchy, blotchy, red, blistering and swollen bites on my legs which makes other people on public transport stare at me with awe and disgust. The last thing M. did before flying off back to London was to glare at me and stop me from scratching them (hee hee, but he couldn't do anything about me scratching them after he'd left), then buy me a can of mosquito repellent which I am to carry around with me every time I go out. Maybe this is a sign that I should take a taxi to work this week.

Second bar:
A. has been sending me some great links, including that Morse Code converter. And this is
one hell of a busy girl. Could it be that translation work (Chinese to English!) is making her brain work faster? I'm just joking, A. This is her link for Cat Town tales.

Chorus:
I need bed days. Bed days are like sick days, but instead of taking them off when you are ill, you take them off on days when you really, really need a bed. N.B. This is not the same as unemployment.

I want flexible working arrangements. Actually, the last firm I was working for tried this, but they put off implementing it for a while. The reason for the delay? Well, if you are lawyer and the way you raise money is billing hours, there is a certain scope for abuse in how you put down your time if you are not monitored carefully. As it turned out, one of the lawyers who was on the team for the trial run of the 'work-from-home' scheme was stupid enough to put down 12 hours every day he was at home. 12 hours of billable time every day?! Unless you were documenting a whole deal by yourself - which you will almost never be doing - this is pretty difficult to do. Especially if you didn't use to bill 12 hours. The nitwit.

Instrumental:
I think we should get Mondays off. Argh.