Last week made me realise that I do need time away from work. I think I was close to mental exhaustion. And time away from work doesn't have to be filled every minute with terribly exciting wonderful things to do.
So when I got back to the office yesterday, it was with a new-found resolve that I managed to pick up my jacket and walk away at 6.30pm with only the slightest hint of doubt and regret.No more late nights, no more anxiety about finishing every job. It'll still be there tomorrow, I told my Mum. I need Me Time!!
I was still telling myself this at 9.30pm tonight as I switched out the lights on an otherwise-empty office building. Homeless Guy has gone - I hope it's to somewhere much warmer and drier, but I did miss him. The Bell-Ringers were going strong and the guy with the ridiculously short-legged dog remained on the street corner. I do wonder why he never walks it, even thought about asking him, (I have a suspicion that either he's a drug dealer or the dog has a terrible wasting disease that means it would melt into a pile of fur if made to walk more than 5 yards; it's the strangest dog - body the size of a full border collie, legs of which a Corgi would be proud, and a urine flow that would put the Mississippi to shame) but my mind was far too occupied with still trying to work out how I have singularly managed to alienate a guy who up until a few weeks ago seemed to genuinely enjoy my company as much as I did his.
My intrinsic leftie tendencies tweak at me when I sense needless waste, and I can't help thinking that I've committed a huge crime against recycling. I've thrown away the chance to chat about the rugby, our kids, Debbie Cock-Up anecdotes, holiday highs and woes ( Jack's going to Spain for Christmas with Mum and StepMonster and has persuaded me to put a deposit on an Outward Bound holiday in France rather than Japan next year so Saionara Kyoto!) and generally enjoy the feeling that someone gets me and I get him. And I never even noticed as I wrapped it up with all the garbage that is my life outside work.
I've delved through all the detritus and I still can't seem to see where it went. My last resort is St Anthony, the Patron saint of Lost Things - it worked for my keys so here goes..........
So when I got back to the office yesterday, it was with a new-found resolve that I managed to pick up my jacket and walk away at 6.30pm with only the slightest hint of doubt and regret.No more late nights, no more anxiety about finishing every job. It'll still be there tomorrow, I told my Mum. I need Me Time!!
I was still telling myself this at 9.30pm tonight as I switched out the lights on an otherwise-empty office building. Homeless Guy has gone - I hope it's to somewhere much warmer and drier, but I did miss him. The Bell-Ringers were going strong and the guy with the ridiculously short-legged dog remained on the street corner. I do wonder why he never walks it, even thought about asking him, (I have a suspicion that either he's a drug dealer or the dog has a terrible wasting disease that means it would melt into a pile of fur if made to walk more than 5 yards; it's the strangest dog - body the size of a full border collie, legs of which a Corgi would be proud, and a urine flow that would put the Mississippi to shame) but my mind was far too occupied with still trying to work out how I have singularly managed to alienate a guy who up until a few weeks ago seemed to genuinely enjoy my company as much as I did his.
My intrinsic leftie tendencies tweak at me when I sense needless waste, and I can't help thinking that I've committed a huge crime against recycling. I've thrown away the chance to chat about the rugby, our kids, Debbie Cock-Up anecdotes, holiday highs and woes ( Jack's going to Spain for Christmas with Mum and StepMonster and has persuaded me to put a deposit on an Outward Bound holiday in France rather than Japan next year so Saionara Kyoto!) and generally enjoy the feeling that someone gets me and I get him. And I never even noticed as I wrapped it up with all the garbage that is my life outside work.
I've delved through all the detritus and I still can't seem to see where it went. My last resort is St Anthony, the Patron saint of Lost Things - it worked for my keys so here goes..........
posted by Cherrypie at 7:33 am
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