Working 9 to 5=Understatement of the Century

I've worked almost 70 hours in a week. So much for a Thanksgiving break.

Dolly, come help me sing my troubles away. I know you've still got it in you. (Though you're looking increasingly more like a cross between Joan Rivers and MJ. Sad, because you were presh during the "Steel Magnolias" era.)

Seriously though, I don't know what got into me this past week. I arrived to work mostly on time (I consider 5-10 minutes late still on time), stayed past my scheduled shift and didn't go out drinking once this weekend. (Though I did drink a majority of the bottle of wine I bought for Thanksgiving dinner...a girl's gotta decompress somehow.)

I also had nightmares all weekend. Saturday night, I actually thought there was a ginormous spider crawling from my canopy onto my comforter. It was so realistic, I jolted out of my bed and turned on the lights, only to find it was just me and my collection of stuffed animals sharing my covers...thank God. Then, last night, a shark attacked me and took a giant chunk of flesh out of my bicep.

What I want to ask my f-ed up subconscious is why the thought of a grapefruit-sized arachnid caused me to leap 10 feet, while I soundly slumbered through the attack of a 7-foot ocean predator? Clearly, the shark would cause the more painful death. But I guess these things don't cross your mind during REM sleep.

The dream-dictionary websites I reference daily say that spiders are symbolic of feminine power, keeping distance from a tempting situation or protection from a self-destructive behavior. While a shark symbolizes anger and hostility, or could indicate the struggle of a painful and emotional period.

Um...could they come up with any more meanings? I sorted through them all, and I'm convinced that my jobs are to blame for these crazy dreams.

Clearly, the spider dream occurred because I'm trying to protect myself from the self-destructive behavior of working too many hours. And the shark dream is indicative of work causing me severe emotional trauma. Hmm...maybe I can use this as medical proof and file for short-term disability. What a genius idea!

Miss Procras. lately:
Miss Procras. on vacay-I mean, short-term disability:

I'm sold. Who else is with me?