I had the luxury of staying home for five months of falling head over heels for Baby, but I am back to my day job now.
My typical day involves
rushing (to work),
trudging (through work),
wondering (if I have enough work to earn my keep),
realizing (that it is time to pump),
listening (to dipwads),
repeating (instructions to dipwads),
wishing (I could go to the gym and instead realizing that is time to pump - yet again),
searching (for that thing that I swear I just set down),
pumping (oh yes, one more time),
plowing (through whatever work I can finish before the end of the day),
packing (bottles and their various accessories, work ID, blackberry, cell phone, keys), and
racing (home to see Baby).
Yesterday I added tripping to the list. At some point between searching and pumping, I opened my office door. I turned to my left so that I could walk to the ladies room. The next thing I knew, I crashed into the wall as I tripped forward and sideways simultaneously. Somehow, I did not fall over - but I did succeed in making a racket. (My kind of poise and grace is noisy.) The Southeast corner of the 19th Floor stopped and looked up at me with a couple of gasps and "are you okays," but then it was back to business as usual for everyone. Nonetheless, I still had to walk from my crash site to the ladies room, past all of the people who had just seen (and heard) me spaz out of my office door and into a wall. I was bright red, hot in the face, and praying (seriously, praying) that I would make it past everyone without falling over again.
As soon as I returned to my office, I put my heels back in their drawer and returned to the flats I had commuted in.