I was at the bus stop earlier than the rubbish trucks on their weekly rounds, which should give you an idea as to my level of out-of-whackedness. No one has ever accused me of being a morning person, until now.
It’s clear and cloudless, and in between passing cars, I can hear all the birds. Lovely. I’d rather be staying here by the side of the road and listening to the birds. Instead I am on my way to work early to face up to the repercussions of my unexpected resignation yesterday.
i had been quietly weeping at breakfast for the last week, but yesterday, after a broken night (how do new mothers do it????), it became more like a 1 in 100 year flood. Like a real flood, this left me in need of major reconstruction.
People break at the worst times, and I am no exception. It’s 14 days to the deadline. I am not going to be flavour of the month when I show my face today. But am I supposed to sacrifice my health for a poorly planned project? My blood sugars have been consistently above safe and its entirely due to the unrelenting expectations of performance. They don’t need a human, they need a machine to meet this deadline at the level of quality they want. Or at the very least a hare.
I’ve always been a tortoise. I can do sustained intense levels of analytical work at a slower pace. But this is not a world for tortoises anymore. Especially not a diabetic tortoise.
So if you happen know of of a nice, slowish pond somewhere in Canberra that’s looking for a new tortoise, drop me line. I’d love to know.