Working Girl

Sometimes I wonder why I decided to go down the career woman path. Every day I wake up stressed out of my mind, too much to do, too much to think about, not enough time, no-one to help. As much as I love my job, there is nothing I'll look forward to more than a holiday, and then spend the whole time feeling guilty and fretting about all the work I have to do when I get back, now that I've lost that week. Bordering possibly on insanity about the whole thing, I'm sure.
I love my job, I really do, and I have recently gotten a promotion which means more money, stronger career opportunities in the future, and a chance to have a say in where the company goes. I am utterly flabbergasted, and still in shock. Yet with this, also comes added pressure, mounting expectation, and a boss who now demands every ounce of my being. Yet, when I think about it, I was just as happy being a waitress.
Granted, I can't be a waitress when I'm 45, well I suppose I could, but you don't exactly see many of them, do you?, and the pay is risky, especially now I imagine people are going out for dinner rarely, and when they do, angst over a bottle rather than a glass, which leaves thought for a decent tip somewhat unlikely. But what is it that drives me to be so far up the career ladder that there is nothing at the top but more work and nothing else, because there's no time and you're too knackered. I have neglected my friends, barely knowing anything about the ins and outs of what they are up to, because I'm just too tired and ratty to make the effort I should. As for relationships...
A friend of mine recently opted out of the next step up for something more relaxed, less all-consuming, and without too much drama, even though she took a pay cut and the job is easier. I admire her. For so long I have defined myself by my job, that I am realising I am nothing without it, simply because I have nothing left to give after it.
What to do about that, I'm not sure, but I do know that for the rest of this week, the laptop goes off, and I will do my best to switch the work head off and have some fun. Then think about getting more sleep, how to leave my forehead alone and spend more time on and with friends, because surely they're worth more than any promotion or pay-rise?

Attic fever

So here I am, cooking like the proverbial lobster, back in the attic while the teens play rock band and eat sugar. In light of this return, I realised it was also the last time I blogged. Seems the lack of sanity and random blitherings go hand in hand... So, then, what's new... Well not much by all accounts. However, I have put up shelves (with help, granted) - a descent into the world of DIY weekends and old age, clearly. My almost indestructible cat sadly proved the almost to be true. Snivel. I still wish I was a little bit thinner and a little bit taller. I am however, tanned. Which helps. Gin is a veritable life support machine, as ever was, and my friends, are as always, very fabulous.
I am still single, which irritates me far less than I thought, considering recent forays into, well, lets be polite and say "disappointments". But I do think I should probably pay more attention to that at some point soon. Someone to help with the cooking and carrying of bags, and indeed further shelves, wouldn't go amiss. Someone to hold the popcorn so I don't eat it all or throw it all down myself during bad action flicks is also, always useful.
I also continue to work incessantly, and have no idea when I'm going to slow down. Not any time soon I should think. Damnit.
So, I'm thinking of joining a walking club upon leaving the attic, which should help with the recently acquired sloth thighs, and I'm thinking about other ways to do things differently. Yoga sounds like an idea, as does regular trips to somewhere I haven't been before. More book reading, too, and more learning. More to think about.

(Beverage: H20. It's all too hot in here. Shoes: New. I fell into an outlet store and meanwhile, mountains were made.)