OK, people, I've now finally understood something vital for the rest of my career (heh, I said career), life, happiness. I am blatently disorganised when working from home. You could probably call it a disgrace. I prefer to say it's... not quite well thought out yet. Or ever. Really, I shouldn't be fooling myself here, and I certainly hope I'm not fooling any of you.
See, one of my friends phoned me when I was at my parents'.
Her: "We have this TV show-related thing to translate. Wanna do it? Well. Part of it?"
Me, shrieking down the phone: "Ooh, ooh, do I get to meet him, do I get to meet him?".
Her: "No. Wanna do it?"
Me: "Oh. OK. How many words, what's the deadline?" (Notice how professional I can be? Blink, and you'll miss it.)
Her: "11,000 words, due in 10 days. Don't think it's easy."
Me: "Excellent. And I'm so not thinking it's easy."
Me, inside of my own head, where only my other me's can hear me: "So easy! I'll have done that in no time! Ha ha ha! And the world will be mine! Ah ah ah!"
Oh how the world laughs now. Mainly at me. Also because it turns out it won't have to be putty in my hands, and it's a hysterical, relieved, nervous little chuckle. But mostly at me. And the bugger is loud.