It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't seem like just one more day working on this would polish it all off, and the inevitable annoyance that I could have had a blissful weekend off had I had that extra day of productivity that was robbed from me by the New Year bank holiday. As it is, I either 1) Work tomorrow or over the weekend (thus cutting into my own time and meaning that a four-day week suddenly becomes an eleven-day week), or 2) Batten down the hatches, say "sod it" and take the weekend off anyway.
Ordinarily, I'd say "2" all the way, but alas, in the manner in which these things usually circulate, that just leads to me coming in again on Monday, sitting down at my desk and thinking: "Right. What the fuck was I doing?", and that's another two days gone. Pah.
Oh well, that grindstone isn't going to press itself to my nose, so I'd better get on and do it myself. Out.