I know there was a time when I could look at the things I had to do, the things I wanted to do and the time I had at my disposal and not whimper. I don't dare to wish it back because I fear this would start Armageddon.
The knowledge that it's mostly my own fault - because I couldn't be more lazy if I was dead some days (at least if vampire and zombie movies are to be believed) - doesn't help in the slightest when a week that would be busy under normal circumstances just became nearly unbearable because of my habit of procrastination.
So I can't give my rant on the appropriate age to take children to certain museums the time it deserves. (In short: If they can't even walk or be reasoned with not to scream if they aren't hurting, you don't take them to writer's homes with audio-tours and nothing to generally interest children of that age. People at the zoo or museums that show mummies or dinosaurs are in my experience more willing to tolerate children shrieking than people who have to press their headphones to their ears in a desperate move to understand the love poem read to them.)
Ok, now I'll read the milk hygiene material, answer the questions for Julia like I should have done three weeks ago (*headdesk* stupid, stupid, stupid *headdesk*), prepare the case report that I was forced to take today so I have some idea what I should be asking for at the meeting on Wednesday and read up on the other case report I have to do because this week is my rotation in the large animal internal medicine department (and it's funny that my patient is a Shetland pony foal and thus approximately the size of my dog - so much for large animals).Everything else will have to wait until tomorrow.
If I now could only forget the fact that I have to work the night shift tomorrow, everything would be fine. Maybe if I bang my head some more on the desk...