I talk to salesmen in my underwear.
"Well," I said, sliding hangers along rods as I searched for a top and adjusted the strap of my bra, "it is complicated. So do you need X [brief explanation redacted] or Y [same here]?" I glanced down at my legs, winced at the stubble and picked a pair of pants rather than a skirt. "Sure," I said, setting down the phone since I wasn't really listening anyway and pulling on my shirt and slipping a button through a loop. "I'll get to it early this week," I promised and hung up. The time flashed on the screen - 6:42AM - before I flipped it closed and selected peep-toe flats to wear.
I go from 1 to 60 overnight.
I spent most of my waking hours (which, granted, were few and infrequent) this weekend answering messages. For the first time since I started, my Inbox contained a single, lonely, fantastic, lovely, wonderful message. It's a good thing I took a moment to sit and smile at the one email. In the time it took for me to sleep and Asia and Europe to start their weeks, I was overwhelmed once again.
I must be the secretary!
I attended two formal meetings today. At the first, there were 15 people from around the world. I technically outranked every single one of them. And, as the only female, I ended up taking notes. It was my decision, actually - I was reading several new emails when someone asked who was taking notes. I broke the silence a few moments later, absently offering to do it so we could get started. I didn't think much of it until later in the day when I sat in a different meeting, this one with about 50 people, and looked around while I wasn't taking notes. The only other woman in the room was taking care of it.
I am emotional.
The trailer for The Time Traveler's Wife makes me cry. And it's on all the time. I cry all the time. I am mostly peaceful about not having a baby. I was talking to a colleague today about our respective potential to reproduce (separately) and was very relaxed when I admitted I was unlikely to have a baby. I was flipping through files, looking for an old reference from my post-doctoral days, and found the tutoring material I'd once used. And I had this mental picture of a young girl coming home so I could help her with Math before dinner and was breathless at the sense of loss that overwhelmed me.
I can't think of any more facts.