Oh yeah, I've been working too hard this week.
The important signs/symptoms* that I've been at work too long, working too hard, or otherwise letting work get to me? The telephone.
The phone rang here in my office.
Now keep in mind that I have a replica of the old bakelite phones from the 50's, so there's no blinking lights or multiple lines, no hold button or anything stranger than a clever faux rotary dial. I answer, it's the MIL, wanting to talk to "her offspring." Her words, not mine. *shrug* So, I cup my hand over the receiver so I don't yell in her ear and call through the office door "Hon, your Mom's..." and I swear to Jeebus that I almost said "...on line one."
I stumbled through an awkward "...on duh the phone."
I need to sleep. I swear I saw the planet Jupiter driving a big Buick Landyacht on the road home today. Who does he think he is, a god or something?
* That's nursespeak, usually written as S/S** on paperwork.
** And isn't it a warning sign that I'm so familiar with the shorthand that I'm using it in a BLOG POST? Gold-plated seventeen foot Jeebus on a firetruck, I'm not a nurse, I don't even play one on the phone.