January hit me like 350lb linebacker today. S and I are more than half-way through his assignment in Afghanistan, but this morning we fought before I'd even had breakfast. I'm tired. I had a bag of salt and vinegar chips for lunch. I spent the entire day covering meetings in French, which is entirely what I signed on for with my latest freelance gig but which was enough today to make me want to jump off the inter-provincial bridge. I missed a scrum I should have been at. My wi-fi wasn't working where I was, so I couldn't check my e-mail or fact-check my story all day and essentially lugged my laptop on a 70-minute return walk for no reason. Of the 10 or so people presenting at the meeting I was covering, none of them brought documents for the media, so all I had to refer to were my hastily-scribbled notes, taken as they raced through their presentations. In French. My apartment's a mess. The past two nights I haven't finished working until 7:30 p.m.
Tomorrow's a new day. A -39 day, but a new day nonetheless. Let's hope the sun shines brightly in Afghanistan too.
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