For the past fortnight, I've walked to work only once. How bad is that? It has arrived at the stage where I'm working so late and am so mentally drained that the mere thought of a 3.5+km walk home at the end of the day is just too daunting. And in the mornings, I'm clutching at that extra 20mins of sleep.
It's got to stop. This is high summer, for heaven's sake, the time of year when the evenings are long and supposedly balmy. Walking to and from work is supposed to be a joy. In another week, we have the summer solstice and the midsummer celebration!
Unfortunately, work is just not letting up and is sapping my soul. My only salvation is dragging myself out to cafes and restaurants for many meals, which is some consolation -- but not a substitute for walking and writing!
Don't let me get started on my lack of writing.
I have just one more week of work to go until a two-week 'break'. I am counting down the days. It won't be a true break, because I've already figured out that I'll have to do 3-4 days work in order to get some stuff out of the way -- stuff I know I won't have the head space to do in January. This makes me furious and frustrated, but it's got to be done. I will probably pick one or two days in the week before Christmas, and then another the following week. Maybe another two.
It makes me feel sick just to contemplate it.