You see, the convention runs from Sat 2 Oct - Mon 4 Oct. Coincidentally, my POW is being Ofsteded the week beginning the 4th. Now, I could go for half the convention -- coming back on the Monday, when the inspectors certainly won't have time to see me. I've already cleared that with my boss. But if I do that, I miss the excursion to the artists village on Monday, and the end-of-convention wrap-up, fun stuff, essentially. If the inspectors want to see me at all it's probably going to be on the big meeting on the Wednesday or on the Thursday. It should be fine for me to spend Tuesday travelling back and then join the inspection for the latter part of the week.
I need to buy my plane ticket, but that "probably", that "should be fine" -- it's causing me grief.
I told C. (my co-worker) about it and she harrumphed. "Life wasn't meant to be easy," she said. It's one of the standard things you say to a kid who isn't getting their way. Who's been forbidden a treat. It's a simple statement, but there's a lot encoded into it; that (paid) work matters, that the other things you want to do is a toy, a game, a hobby. An indulgence. Plenty of people don't do much outside their work; and there's a strong (and reasonable) argument that if your extra-curricular activities are interfering with your work, you should quit one or the other. How much does that extra day at Grrr mean to me? Is it just an indulgence? ... but, on the other hand, they may not even to want to see me. There's a very good chance that if I go back on the Monday I will spend Tuesday, sat at my desk, feeling resentful, waiting for a meeting that never comes.
Damn, my nose is bleeding. I'm trying to look at it as just another choice, but it keeps turning into a life decision.
Mood of Google: I'm in a state of bliss, I'm out of a job.
Oh ho-ho. That second one is from "Singin' in the Rain" ... I can practically sing along to that scene. The next thing Cosmo Brown says is "Now I can start suffering and write that symphony." Two minutes later, he has his job back. "Cheers R.F.," he says, "Now I can stop suffering and write that symphony".
Smart movie, that.