I know there are a lot of people who work a lot harder than I do, and more, so I try not to complain about it when I do have to work a lot. But man, this week. On Tuesday I stayed at the office until about 8:30, when I started getting uncomfortable about being there alone and walking out to my car, since it was beginning to get dark, so I left, came home, and worked here until 12:30, when I knew I had to get to bed or I wouldn't be able to get up the next morning.

Wednesday was more of the same, as was Thursday. By Friday afternoon, though, I had accomplished enough that I thought I might be able to actually not work on the weekend, and after confirming that with the project manager, I left on Friday at 5:00, which, after the rest of the week, felt almost like going on vacation.

Then I woke up on Saturday morning at 6:30 thinking about work, and about something I could do to improve the project I've been working on, and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up and worked some more.

Bob was out of town on a fishing trip, and I had had all kinds of plans for a relaxing, fun week. I was going to rent some movies, and I was going to try to go out to dinner a couple of times, and I was going to knit, and read.

I did absolutely nothing except work. No movies, very little knitting, almost no reading, and no going out to dinner, unless driving through Taco Bell at 9:00 p.m. counts, and I don't think it does. But I suppose it was just as well it happened last week while he was gone, since I was able to work such long hours and not feel guilty about him being at home alone. I don't think this week will be quite as bad, but there will still be some late nights, I imagine.

And this morning his mother called and said that his aunt, who lived in Columbus, Ohio, had passed away last night, so I started calling around getting information on available flights and hotels and car rentals, and he got home, and we made reservations for him to leave again tomorrow morning at 8:00 for the funeral.

It will be nice to have him back for one night, anyway . . . We went out today and bought him a new suit, a lovely dark blue one with a faint chalkstripe, and we had lunch at the Mongolian barbeque place while it was being altered, and now he's upstairs watching the Harry Potter movie, which I bought on DVD last weekend, and trying to relax a little bit, and I'm doing laundry.

Working late in the office is a mixed blessing. I always seem to accomplish more when I'm there by myself--no visitors or ringing phones, not much to be distracted by. On the other hand, while not a really dangerous part of town, it's probably not exactly the safest, either, and not a part of town I want to be wandering around in after dark. And then there's the modeling agency downstairs.

My assumption is that they represent, or propose to represent, a lot of high school kids, so they don't really get started until after 3:30. At about 4:00, the music starts up; at least, I assume it's music--all we can hear upstairs is the bass. The speakers must be mounted on the ceiling, and I think at least one of them must be right under my office.

It's not so bad when everyone is still there--there's other stuff going on, people talking, hustle and bustle--but when everyone but me is gone, it's almost unbearable. Putting on headphones doesn't drown it out, and it makes it almost impossible to concentrate. It doesn't happen every night, and I suppose there's nothing to be done about it, but when it does happen, it makes it nearly impossible to smile at the crowd of anorexic girls lounging on the stairs when I get out of the elevator in the lobby. I never imagined that a modeling agency would be so loud.