Peers out from under a mountain of paper

So, I've been costing this week. Preparing Ministers for negations with the Treasury, over, literally billions of pounds. Find myself wondering things like 'how many millions is a billion?' (1000) and what happens when you get past billions, is squillions a real word?

It's hilarious, here I am, clutching my c grade maths GCSE and writing stacks of briefing on what we should ask for and how to negoiate it.
The boss is at Centre Parks. He passed me a pot of chocolate hob nobs on his way out. It got him a bit off the hook for leaving me flailing around in a pool of my own sweat, but naturally, not once they'd gone.

The rest of the Directorate, who we rely on to be experts that help us, but ultimately don't have arses on the line, say things like 'I can't, I've a training manual to read' when you ask them to 'just pop that in writing for me to use would you?'. It's been warfare, literally, the bosses, bosses, boss who's a very big cheese said 'Julie we're all under pressure' when I railroaded one of the heads of division who was doing a 'just set up a meeting and I'll dictate' routine, an hour before my three papers with 4 annexes Deadline. 'I think you'll find some of us are more up against it that others' I responded before telling him 'look, it wouldn't be a bad thing if you told your people your line is on the arse as well as ours and they had better start pulling stuff out of the bag beyond a load of sweet smelling, nice sounding, wind'.

Point was taken, I think.
The boys just watch me, then proffer a plethora of pats on the back when out of nothing I manage to conjure something vaguely reasonable sounding.
My great team are disintegrating, the boy wonder deputy, whilst good, needs everything checked, my new fabulous fast streamer is fabulous, but can't it seem handle anything more technically challenging than turning on her PC (she needs training - I've told her, book it, now!) and the admin assistant, (who isn't the one who has just stopped coming to work who works in the other team), but is the one who keeps agitating for promotion, decided today that the stress of designing 30 place names for an event she's known for 2 months we're holding tomorrow, is possible out of her depth. I found myself showing her how to use word, coaxing her with phrases like 'I know you can do it', when, quite clearly, action before the 'print unit' (I ask you?!!!) turn up to work in the morning was just too much to ask. Honestly, it's like turning up for a medieval battle with one geriatric and his steed the sturdy zimmer frame.

I've had to cut back the dating ambitions to one, Friday, he's meeting me in the office.
I'm having very little time to ponder questions like 'who seriously, would describe themselves as 'very attractive'?' and 'does he seriously think I'd travel to Jersey for a date?'. Luckily I'm also having little time to lament the loss of the boy who I never met. Naturally I've had to take his number out of my phone to prevent the urge to text in a 'that seems like a good idea' post glass of wine, frenzy.
Hilarity turns to hysteria
Then Nettie creates an oasis at home, and suddenly, when I'm wondering if I'll stay afloat, I think of all the marvellousness I'll return to, sanity descends.