Last week’s prolific output is a measure of my productivity. Written output is inversely proportional to actual output. This week, I’ve been a bit busier. It is an ominous tale of being careful what one wishes for. I believe, for some reason, I wished for my workplace to be as busy as it is in winter. Perhaps I wasn’t feeling challenged enough. Perhaps I was sick of standing helplessly by while young people ruined the lives of their children with a mixture of spineless capitulation and sugar. Perhaps I’d just had enough of all that free time to pursue personal projects.
Well, now it is really busy and I don’t have any significant time off from one study day to the next. It infiltrates my dreams so that not even in my sleep do I get away from it. From what mysterious place does this capacity for obsession come? How am I [the person] so completely subsumed by me [the role]?
I know, I know. I bring it on myself, find something important to moan about. If I’d had more time, I might know what all this Barclays fuss is about. Or I’d set out a vision for flexible working which improves the lives of parents, children and the rest of us.
This is just my pre-holiday slump, the line is so near that my brain is no longer pushing me to get there. It’s given up. I’m officially ‘sausted. See you in a week or so…
Meanwhile, my new wish is to live in this street (with nicer bunting):
No, count it, NO exercise this week: -1
Total so far…
- Karma: +19
- FRP: +133.1
- Relationships: +4
- Family: +10
- Friends: +13 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
- Career: +11
- Fitness: +4
- General: +7
- Hospitality: +2