Working my ass off

Well, if I’m being completely honest, I haven’t worked it right off. Not even half. It’s still very much there. But I seem to have worked my brain off. It’s only working at about quarter capacity as a result of spending the last five million days in front of my computer. I have to think hard before speaking at the moment in case HTML comes out.

OK, that’s not strictly true either, but it’s feeling a bit like it at the moment.

It’s that time of year when everyone is getting really sick of winter. It hasn’t even been a particularly bad winter here in Auckland, but cabin fever is starting to set in. There are days when I feel like some kind of feral cat is just busting to get out of me. I’ve done that thing that I said I wasn’t going to do again… I’ve said yes to more work than is reasonable. I’ve taken on two big projects in the midst of moving house. It means that I work all day, train, go home, eat, quickly do some packing and then work most of the night.

In the weekends I wake up, train, go home, eat, work, pack, work, pack… you get the idea. I intersperse the working and packing with social visits in an effort to keep me sane. On a daily basis I thank the god that I don’t believe in for giving me an understanding husband who takes over the running of the house without complaint so that I can do what I need to do.

But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. This time next week I’m going to be lying by the pool in sunny Rarotonga. Then I’m going to come home and frantically do some more packing and working, before heading off to Tahiti. I am one spoiled bitch.

This is usually where I go off on my rant about not actually being spoiled because that would mean that I didn’t appreciate what I have, but that’s just crap. I’m spoiled and that’s the truth of it.

So I guess the working is a means to an end. Life’s not all bad!

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