I just realized that I am (almost) utterly sick of staring at a computer screen at work. It has been a crazy past two weeks. My daily schedule went like this:
Wake up at 7-ish am.
Work from 9am - 7pm.
Return home to rest for 20mins.
Head to the old place to clean, which includes detailed scrubbing of walls, clearing of junk, wiping down every surface, etc.
Return home at 2am to commence unpacking and refitting into new place.
Sleep at 4am.
Wake up at 7-ish am.
Do not pass Go, do not collect $200...
It has been pretty exhausting on all fronts. Work has upped the ante as well since the promotion. I now have to look after a team of four (because one is redundant), and we are made to do more with even less resources. If it's one thing I've learnt, is that simple math is not a prerequisite for certain roles in upper management.
Not that I'm complaining (okay, yes I am...). I guess it could often be worse, and I should really be content with what I have. And to a certain degree, I am. The new place, albeit older and smaller, is cosier and has more of a homey feeling. The new room, while invalids the desire to get a queen bed (nooo!!!), is more than functional. Less space also equals easier furnishing. I quite like being surrounded by books and dvds, and having a balcony and 27-inch LCD monitor definitely makes the room that much awesomer.
No internet at the new place yet, which explains the lack of activity on the blogging front. Which is also a good thing cause that means I get to do more (sort of). And I finally get to take my leave this Friday. It's going to be pretty sweet I reckon.
And certain things start moving ahead of what I imagined. I'm tired of cliches and overboard jump-start feelings really. I think I've officially become phobic to it. Was it too much too soon? I know not, but then again, hindsight has always been a sandy place by the sea.
And yet, oh the beautiful punctuation of a comma next to 'yet'. What if it feels real? I don't think one necessarily becomes wiser or more adept at defining or distinguishing the arguments. After all, one can easily point out that every other one was confessed as real. And that would be a valid point. But wherehence do we, should we, ought we dump this tiny but ever potent feeling of optimism?
You can read this, you understand. Maybe I'm too lazy to be too cryptic, eh sister? But you can tell me what is one supposed to do when-----.
Yeah like I'll tell everyone else. I'm lazy but not that lazy. Heh.
. Arigato .
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