I must’ve been very bad in a previous life because I’ve paid for it this week.
A colleague described it as being in The Circle of Pain – a special something only open to a few of us. The more or better you do, you’re rewarded with more work, he said.
I watch in wonder at the colleagues who leave early every day. The ones who don’t even bother to make a pretence of waiting for the official clock-off time.
I’ve been wondering a great deal lately about imbalance. Seems to be a lot of it going around.
Last night, I caught up with a friend I hadn’t seen in more than six months. I had a couple of glasses of wine.
This morning, I feel less than sparkly. Ah, the joys of slowing down…
Right now, I can’t imagine summer again.
I miss you, blue sky. I miss you, warm breeze.
Please come back soon.
I hate to admit it, but this week my brain feels like this shop I saw in Chinatown, San Francisco, when I was there a couple of weeks ago. I only noticed the old dude in the back of the shop just now (!) – seriously, I was so distracted by the clutter I didn’t even see him when I took the snap. Clutter aside, I feel alive so that’s good. Right? Perhaps the 5.45am treadmill sessions have something to do with it…
Up or down? It’s winter, so for me, it’s down.
Yesterday’s post was missed because work got in the way – refused to budge until 8pm.
Yesterday was quite perfect. Especially when viewed on board the ferry from Balmain, following a leisurely lunch with the bestie.
I love being in Sydney still, after all this time.
I can see my apartment building in the photo. Right in the heart of it now. It feels good.
I had to take a trip to the US for work recently. It was, on the whole, fine, a success, even. But there were a couple of aspects of the trip that were less than satisfactory.
One was an argument with a colleague and close friend which saw us not speaking for about four days. We have since mended the proverbial fence but things feel different between us now.
The second was getting sexually harassed by one of the partners one night. He’d had too much too drink (Krug or Dom – I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of Champagne since!) and wouldn’t leave me alone. Octopus hands which I removed forcibly from my person many times. Finally, got rid of him… then the texts – “Another drink?”… “C’mon!”… “Call me!”… “Here’s my mobile number…” … “Here’s my hotel room number…” Now I have to pretend that it never happened, but it did and I hate that it did.
I’m not myself lately. It’s not just because it’s winter.