I’ve been back at work for a couple days now. And I’m coping… just.
Suburbia is starting to feel more like “home” now that I’m working again. I realised this week that it’s felt more like a (really farking expensive) holiday house because I’ve been pfaffing for so long since we moved. But now that I have a routine that involves more than just Judge Judy and perusing the Howard’s Storage World catalogue, I’m feeling more cemented here.
I’ve already built myself a bit of an after-work routine this week:
- Water our expanding collection of pots full of potting mix
- Give the cats some balcony time, balcony time that must be monitored at all times because Bear has this trick where he climbs up to the railing LIKE A NINJA. Without warning or sound, Bear will suddenly appear on the railing, trying to get closer to the neighbourhood birds.
Thanks for the heart attack, Bear.
I get to sit on our pouff out here and soak up the last of the sunshine and enjoy the fresh air and play on my (new! hand-me-down, but new! to me! so much faster than my own!) laptop while I unwind after yet another (fully) hectic day of being awesome at work.
The cats get to spy on the local joggers (we have LOT of those around here, it’s quite disturbing), the locals on their way home work and the neighbours (who may or may not be NUNS) potter around in their garden.
It’s all quite lovely and homely, until the heat of the laptop starts roasting my thighs and the “genuine Persian” pouff gets prickly and makes my bum numb.
It’s about that time that I go inside to watch the news.