by I played tennis on Sunday and it was embarrassing. I was reduced to a heap in the last set of doubles, moping around the baseline and blasting everything miles out. If home still felt like home I couldn’t have got home fast enough.
Work. That’s starting to come apart at the seams too. On Monday I joined my boss off site as he gave a presentation I’d completely forgotten about. I was forced to spend far too much time with him afterwards. Then on Tuesday we had the team meeting as usual, where my boss prattled on expansively. At times I was obliged to interject briefly, pretending that I cared. I simply won’t survive the 200-plus team meetings, 17 performance reviews and four Christmas parties I face between now and when I turn forty. It was great last Thursday to have a beer with someone who gets it. He’s worked in banks before, but now mostly works in people’s gardens, doing odd jobs here and there, and couldn’t face going back to anything approaching a corporate job.
I want to get back into the positive frame of mind in which I started this blog back in October, when I was happy to be me. I’ve got a big, exciting plan in place. If I need my own space more than the average person, so what.
