Totally shagged

This four day Christmas break has me completely slaughtered.
It's the second day back at work and I'm still so tired I'm thinking of installing perspex eye-lids so I look like I'm awake when I am, in fact, fast asleep.
None of this is helped by the fact the air conditioning is no-longer working in this god-forsaken dogbox in the middle of the industrial south.
When asked yesterday (late in the piece) if he would come and fix it the air con, the bloke suggested he might come today. Might. Maybe this afternoon sometime, he suggested. Inferred. As a possibility.
He's not coming.
This office is like a sauna. It's 34 degrees outside and promises to be humid today.
By yesterday afternoon were all asleep at our desks, as if someone had been pumping carbon monoxide into the building. Biartch-trice in particular promised to attack anything or anyone that might possibly look like at some point getting in her way in any way. Even an accidental over-attentive stare in her direction and she could have cut you off at the knees before you'd even seen her move.
The air con man, therefore, may not be so much lauded as rendered unable to walk when he eventually arrives. (As Bea holds his still beating heart, ripped freshly from his chest, aloft as a warning to other lazy tradesmen).
I would join her in this pursuit were it not for the fact that I am so tired. In fact, I'll probably barely bat an eyelid. (And I won't have to, if they are perspex).