At least that's how it felt today.
Yesterday I pulled a 12 hour work day, getting ready for our annual Winter yarn sale at work. We finally crawled out of the store at 9 o'clock last night, tired, a little sore (all that up and down ladders is telling on my middle aged bones) and a lot exhausted. By the time I battled the wintry night, and a drunken Friday night crowd on the train, I was well and truly ready for bed.
Except, as often happens, it took me until midnight to unwind enough to actually go to bed.
So today I was already feeling a bit worn when I arrived at work, and that was before the onslaught. Our Winter Sale is always busy. Winter for knitters is like Christmas for kids, the source of much anticipation and excitement. And socks (except in this case they're not a disappointing present from your Nan).
OMG. Busy doesn't even begin to cut it. We took our in store record for the biggest opening day of the Winter Sale and we smashed it to pieces. From 9am we didn't not have a queue at the counter. In fact at times it stretched through the store to the back door. Everyone was unfailingly polite and friendly, which made a crazy day that could have been horrendous quite fun instead. People queued, they were gracious when we apologised for the wait, they even helped each other out and let people in a hurry with small purchases go ahead. Meanwhile I was stunned when I put through a sale for over $1,600 (OF. YARN.) ad then I saw one of my co-workers put one through for over $2,000.
We officially close at 4pm on a Saturday, but we only closed the door at 5.45pm.
By the time I walked out into another cold and wet night I was completely and thoroughly knackered. Bed soon methinks.