I want to be a zoo keeper

I'm really tired, really, really tired. Short tough projects one after another without enough downtime has run me into the ground, so I called Weng on Monday night and in between gulps of air, told him I was in the wrong job and wanted to be a zoo keeper. He reassured me that I was just going through a rough couple of months, but if I wanted to be a zoo keeper, he would support me, only he said that zoo keeping at Zoo Negara probably wouldn't be ideal. He's always so practical, even more so when I'm throwing a hysterical fit.

So I got back on the horse on Tuesday, we watched Man Utd host Lyon that night, so that helped a little. Wednesday and Thursday were generally getting better, then Friday hit with a really nasty cold. It just doesn't end.

Basically I was asked to go back to Manchester this week to support the other team until their project ends. My total contribution was largely negative this week - Monday was wiped out by having to take the 6.20am train after really shit week and Friday was spent fighting through cobwebs and cotton wool to form a coherent thought. I feel for the job manager.

Back on the beach

Manchester has finished for me, for the next three weeks anyway. We failed to achieve two main objectives: 1) Go on the Manchester wheel, and something else, I forget. I will definitely miss the hotel - the decor was so relaxing. Once I got used to the silence, sleeping by myself and not keeping one eye on the staircase, it was a room I was always glad to get back to. The Wii nights were also really cool.

This week'll mostly be a whole load of tedious wrapping up to do but at least I won't have to start Mondays at 6.30am for the next week. I'm hoping I'll be able to get away with hiding out at Kingsway and not contacting staffing so I get a couple of weeks to study. Either way I'll be on the beach while everyone else starts making their way back into the big financial world and the office will be a graveyard once again.

We're watching American Idol and my sister, younger by three years, is complaining about feeling old as a bunch of 16 and 17 year olds take the stage. I'm growing further away on the wrong side of 21, with another marker in a month's time.

Weng's goofing off in KL. Actually, goofing off isn't fair, he spends a lot of time in his car and running around with his parents. He's such a guai zai, a well fed guai zai.

Valentine's Day in a bucket

I'm still looking for all those lost hours every day - there are never enough, and I've potentially shot myself in the foot by signing up for the CFA level 1 exam this June. Pathetic that I could only go 8 months without something to study towards. The kiasu-ness runs deep.

With one week left in Manchester, I'm in two minds about whether or not to try and stay on or move on. The city has definitely grown on me and the Great John Street is now a second home, a very comfortable one.

Valentine's Day on Thursday was economically celebrated with a 3 piece Colonel's meal and American Idol with Cheryl. I know Weng ate better than I did. I didn't even get a flower, just a really big serving of chicken rice the next day - I shouldn't be complaining, really.

I've spent most of Friday and Saturday determined to make a dent in my 35 hour sleep debt. Weng occasionally remembers he has a girlfriend and tries to hassle me out of bed. I think I have only been awake about 7 hours so far, and the time I have been awake, I've been catching up on pop culture: Juno has amazing chat.