After a weekend which wasn’t even supposed to be spent at home in Cape Town, I find myself completely drained. I’ve done about a million jobs that I didn’t even know needed doing, but which – with hindsight – I’m actually glad I got out of the way.
There are a big couple of weeks ahead at work before our Europe trip, and I’ve been on the go all day, so I’m going to guide Panama a little closer to World Cup glory on the Playstation, rather than blogging this evening.
If that’s ok with you, that is?*
More – including news of Panama’s latest triumphs – tomorrow.
* or even if it’s not, to be honest.
I’m ready to take the big step of returning to work tomorrow, a mere four weeks, seventeen doctors appointments, twenty-six scans for DVT and one additional operation after I was supposed to go back. It’s been a complete shlep.
There are unpaid medical bills littering the floor of the house. Yesterday, I found the beagle nibbling on one from the anaesthesiologist, which might explain a lot about why it sleeps so much.
Or it might just be really lazy.
I’m still not “right”, but I am getting there. I did a bit of driving (as documented here) last week, but the rush hour traffic is not conducive to a phased return to activity (clutch control is important, people), so the long-suffering and always admirable Mrs 6000 will be my taxi at least for tomorrow. And possibly Tuesday as well.
I’ve been up and about a lot more in preparation, and it’s all going well aside from the fact that not being laid up in bed in full RICE mode is actually completely exhausting. And that’s manageable while I’m at home, because I can just go and lie down somewhere.
That’s not really an option in a TB lab.
There’s also the question of drugs. My nighttime regimen includes stuff that leaves me feeling seriously dopey (yes, more so than usual) for large parts of the following morning. I’m expecting it to be rather challenging.
So… this week is surely going to be interesting. At least I have the benefit of a public holiday on Wednesday to break things up a bit and to allow me to recover from what promises to be a bit of a re-baptism by fire.
I wish I was still on holiday. I’ve been back at work for 12 days already, but the vacation vibes don’t seem to be subsiding at all.
This weekend didn’t help. With well-publicised nonsense and criminality in the city and with the conversation revolving almost solely around the ever more likely appearance of Day Zero, the azure waters and sun-soaked beaches of Cape Agulhas seemed like a very good place to be. And to stay.
Sadly, of course, it can’t be. Our lives are here in Cape Town: home, work, school, dessicated garden. But I want to relive the morning I spent hovering 120m over the rocks and just watching my HD display.
And so I shall:
I’ll be honest, it’s not helping. And that’s mainly because when I look out of the window of the dull, grey laboratory, all I see is dull, grey skies.
Tomorrow evening I have to reset my alarm to basically the middle of the night so the kids can get to school on time.
The traffic will be back. Properly back.
And my front sausage has got a hole in its side – just from exposure to the sun and general wear and tear, I think.
So yeah, I make no apology for being a bit bleugh this morning and for attempting to live vicariously through this weekend’s aerial photographic revelries.
Right. Back to work.
[sound of faint sobbing continues]
Because, like most people, I enjoy weekends where I can be lazy and not do anything, I have to suffer occasional days like today, where a critical point of all those little jobs I should have done (and didn’t) is reached. It’s nothing too taxing, to be honest. A fish tank to clean here, a garage workbench to tidy there, some settings to fix on the Mavic, an important junction box to be mended so that the internet can continue to flow into the house, and quite a lot of iTunes to sort out. Again.
At least that last one can be accompanied by some decent tunage.
I’m currently enjoying some vintage Pet Shop Boys while the beagle snores on the couch behind me and I delete a huge amount of crap from my library.
It’s not exactly strenuous, but I seem to be constantly refining the way iTunes handles my music. I do wish there was a better alternative for my musical collection.
Back to it. Braai and beers to look forward to later.
It’s the weekend, but I’m at work. Hence “workend”.
Yeah, I know. I was also impressed.
Experimental protocols are no respecters of the 5-day working week. Actually, scrub that: they are if I write them. I work around the difficult concepts of “weekdays” and “weekends”, and the work still gets done. This one wasn’t written by me though, and that’s why I’m in the lab at 7:30 on a Saturday morning.
Yes, I know that some people work weekends, and I’m very lucky to only have to come in for a few hours this morning. But I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I worked in the NHS for 9 years and even if you’ve never been to the UK, the Daily Mail has told you just how much that workforce gets routinely shafted (fairly equally under both a Conservative and a Labour Government, for the record).
So I’d kind of hoped that I’d done the hard yards in the respect, like I’d moved on, settled down and could spend cold, winter Saturday mornings snuggling up in bed with a warm wife and no beagle.
But other people who write experimental protocols are no respecters of the 5-day working week.