What happened to my soul?

The plague might have reached its peak today, might not - either way, I'm still at work because I = tool. It's particularly strange, sitting at work with a scattered brain and fingers; my typing is WAY down, and every time I stand up, I need to take a breather in order to not fall over. Oh great, the mail's coming now. I hope my sickness gets passed on to everyone in the office: that'll show 'em to not give me more sick days! Hahaha!

To top it all off, I gave Leah my schedule for next week, with my auditions and such. I'm going to have to take Monday off entirely, and leave work early Tuesday. Monday's mostly greedy - I don't HAVE to take the entire day off, it's just nice. Plus I get to go to Berkeley twice... hm, gotta remember to get some bridge money for that day. Anyway, in response to this, Leah said she wants to have a lunch conversation today. Sigh. I always worry about these, but they turn out to be nothing most of the time.

She's probably going to say something like... since we don't have another front office person, I can't be doing something like that. And my defense is that it's my profession, my art, my passion. I can't just not do something like that. I could, however, go to the Berkeley Rep generals on Tuesday... but that's the same problem, really: I would be missing the full day on Tuesday. That may not be a bad idea, now that I'm thinking about it. Tuesdays are a little slower; I might be able to use that as a bargaining chip. Plus, I have another audition that evening, as well as going to HSM later. That might be a better day after all! That's what I'm going to do! If she raises a fuss, I'll say that I could possibly change the date... BUT I still would need to leave early on Monday, for my other audition. Hm hm hm... whatever! It doesn't really matter, and it isn't a good thing to micromanage that shit; everything will work out, and no matter what, I'm going to be going to those auditions.

So yeah. I'm nervous about this lunch meeting. Worst case scenario: fired. What's probably going to happen: warning.