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The day I was REALLY glad I was still on holiday

By on Jan 2, 2014 in Corporate Puppet, family, health |

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The quotes – do they bother you? I hope not. 2013 was a year chocful of melancholic reflection, and as a lover of a wonderful turn of phrase, it’s these kind of poncey quotes and lyrics that kept me going. I try and avoid the really cheesy, cliched ones – no, really, I swear – but ones like the Churchill quote resonate in weird and wholly wonderful ways. I hope they do for you, too. If not – well, I don’t know what to tell you.

You might need to close your eyes for every other post, dude.

(Psst. If you have any favourites that you think I may love, please do share!)

Today’s been surprisingly productive – well, so far, at least. I spent the morning lying beside my snoring spouse in bed, hammering my way through a very full inbox and talking bollocks on Twitter (as I’m wont to do these days). I am so very happy that I’m not yet back in work. When I finished for the year on the 19 December, the 2 January seemed far enough away to warrant consideration as a return-to-work date. Today? Today it’s like … zomg. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY. WHERE DID YOU GO. Not to rub it in for you guys who did go back today but … yeah. I’m relieved. Although I know I’ll just blink and Tuesday will be here, stinking up my day with WORK. Pft.

So we hung out. Ate antipasti for lunch. Snacked on cheesecake in the afternoon and M taxed his car. We boxed up the decorations for another year. Watched the Hunger Games for the first time (I remain ambivalent. Just kidding. Isn’t it awesomely horrific? Yet to see the end, though – I’m scared to, if I’m honest!). I upgraded GGS, and – for the 8594734759347539457398739th time – put out a call for new writers. See? Productive, without being overloaded. The perfect mix even. Maybe. And not enough to exhaust me.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in bed over the holiday, and that’s neither as dirty nor as lazy as it sounds. The week before Christmas my GP doubled the dose of my migraine meds, and for the first time in my life, I’m understanding what it means to “not be able to get up in the morning”. Christmas Day? We got up at 6.45am with S, and spent a few hours opening gifts etc. But after breakfast, say about nine, half-nine, I was still feeling tired, and decided to – and I quote – “put my head down for half hour”. Next thing I know, it’s 1.30pm. WTF. The sleep isn’t even restful; it’s just a chemically-induced void of nothingness.

For Christmas week, that was pretty much my schedule; wake up late, spend the day yawning, go to bed early. Rinse and repeat. I’m fortunate that the tweak was made prior to the holiday, and fortunate to have an incredibly considerate husband and son. I seem to be a bit better now; I typically wake up around 9.30am, which is an improvement on 11am, I’m sure you’ll agree (even though previously, my internal alarm clock rarely roused me any later than 8am). Quite how I’ll go back to 6.30am starts, though, I have no idea – and I don’t work for particularly sympathetic employer. But at least the meds seem to be curbing the frequency of my migraines, if not quite the intensity. Progress, right?