Out of practice

The holidays this year were 11.5 days long. 11.5 days of delicious sleeps in, lazing around, watching lots of rubbish tv, reading books and trashy magazines, eating too much, drinking too much, hell we even did smoking! It wasn't all lazing around as we did go on some lovely strolls through and around the village, and we started work in my old house, and we did bits and pieces here too, but let's face it, it was mainly lazing. 

But now it's Monday. Which means tomorrow is back to work day. And I have to admit, I actually feel a bit sick at the thought of going back. I'm so out of practice, the alarm going off at 6.30 may actually kill me. And waiting in the cold and damp and wintery weather for grotty buses. Preparing lunches so that I don't have to pay the extortionate amounts just to eat and attempting to shake off some of this excess holiday baggage from too much food and drinkies. Thinking about being at my desk and having to structure thoughts and sentences and tasks and other such eek-ey stuff like that. Me no likey. Not at all. 

Year round holidays sound great in principal, but in practice I think they would actually call that unemployment. And the job situation is sticky enough around this part of the world, I just hope every day that my job stays safe and sound. So I should probably quit whining, have a serious word with myself, and drag my excess holiday baggaged arse back to work! Whether this motivational talk will work at 6.30 when the beep-beep-beep-BEEEP wakes me out of my slumber will be a whole other story...