I wake up to the alarm every week day, Monday to Friday, a few minutes of local radio, then silence, drifting off, again the radio, a quick warm sleepy cuddle and again until it’s so late that I have to haul myself out of bed, into the shower. I’ve laid my clothes out the night before, every night Sunday to Thursday, a nightly chore; pants, bra, socks, vest top, the cardi I leave until the morning – always trying to break the rule a little.
We drive to work, I’m awake by the time I get into the car, always rushed, occasionally I manage breakfast, often it’s chocolate or yoghurt. It’s nice this drive, I’m always happy to commute together, it’s like a division between work and home, any home business dealt with on the way to work and any work stresses consoled on the way home, a kind of grey zone between the two parts of my life, the part that I enjoy and the part that pays for the everything.
I’m kind of disappointed when I get to the office it’s another day at the desk, the best part is chatting round a pot of coffee for those that are worth chatting too. The rest of the day my mind wanders, why can’t I ever focus, why can I think of so many other things that I’d rather be doing. Why am I so attached to the financial aspects of the job.
I’m lucky, so very lucky, I have a lot of self-respect, I’m happy with my body, but I can’t manage to make the changes needed to enjoy the time I spend out of the house during the day. There’s so much potential to make it work but my heart is longing for something else, if only I could understand what it is.
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