Ugg

I want to bang my head against my desk. Repeatedly. For some reason, I've been nothing by anxious and worried since I woke up. However, there's nothing in particular that should be inducing this feeling. It's just a general sense of unrest, I suppose. I've finished all of my work, or, at least, the bit I have available to me at the moment. Jason's feeling better, and he's been working about four hours each day this week. His lithotripsy is scheduled for Monday after next, which is sooner than we anticipated.

I still have hope that we'll get Christmas bonuses again this year. Last year was fabulous, and the company was even more successful this year. My fingers are crossed because my depleted savings account would really love a couple extra thousand to pad it a bit. Plus, I wouldn't feel nearly so bad going shopping for furniture if I had that extra money. We lack seating in our apartment. Jason is the consummate bachelor. He thinks a futon and a television stand are sufficient. I demand a comfy chair and some sort of end table since I have been living with his ass for going on five years. Although, I'm don't think I'm ever going to be able to talk him into eating meals at the dining table. We'll forever have television trays.

To amuse myself and stifle this blasted anxiety, I've been reading the wooooonderful fics that are coming out of sshg_exchange. I'm so shamelessly in love with Severus Snape that it is fairly disgusting.