The rest of the day was okay -- as enjoyable as enforced work-related fun ever is. I won our table's snowman centrepiece, but I gave it away to a colleague who actually wanted it. (I really have no use for a snowman centrepiece)
It feels like Friday. But it isn't. I still have to go to work tomorrow. Bah.
I can't wait for the weekend. This week has seemed exceptionally long. I suppose it's because I've just gotten back, and I'm not used to it anymore. And I've had all kinds of stuff piled on me, which is never fun. And yes, I know, I should't complain since I was griping previously about not having enough work to do. But there ought to be a happy medium between thumb-twiddling and "are you done with the two dozen things I just gave you yet? How about now?" Would that be so hard?