Dear Work, it’s not you it’s me
Happy holidays. Liberty building, London. The Christmas break can be quite an ordeal. When you are in a serious monogamous relationship with your work, like I sometimes wish to believe, moments arise when you want a break from it. I look forward to sleeping in till noon, and watching endless TV shows. I look forward to not having to deal with uncomfortable conversation, or any conversation at all, not having to send emails (and survive the anxiety afterwards of an uncertain feeling in the gut that I surely must have written something inappropriate in it), and not having to shower and get dressed in the layers of clothing required in the cold weather. Then the break arrives, and I am in heaven. For a couple of days at least, as I get to check all the boxes on the list of to-dos (or lack thereof) that I was holding off till the break arrived (like writing what I felt about it). But humans are slave to their habits, and I am human for sure, I think. It starts to go downhil...