so-real

I am floating on lack of sleep. All bag lady brown corduroy dress, wild 4 in the morning hair, and eyes spaced from screen staring on a mission to work. What am I talking about? Today was meant to be my first day of annual leave for a Christmas break but I had so many things on last week that I hadn’t finished all the project stuff I was meant to, so I went in yesterday to get some quiet sneaky Sunday hours in, and hopefully to finish everything. But that didn’t work, with a few key tasks left undone when I left last night (at 9.30? 10? I can’t remember) although sporting a freshly tidied and beautifully sorted desk ready for January re-entry. I came home, showered, fell into bed and looked forward to a sleep in, but I woke up at quarter to 4 this morning, wide away from a detailed dream about workshopping a particular concept between some of the theory and folk and some of the practitioners I work with. It was a good idea for a workshop. My waking self agrees that this particular term warrants closer inspection, and better definition, and that a workshop could help. My waking self had no idea my subconscious was worried about it, and certainly didn’t expect to be awake, wide awake, and buzzing before the sun rose as a result. So I got up, threw clothes on, and decided to make the most of it. Figured it was better to face the lingering tasks and then really enjoy being on holidays, rather than knowing that I had another 3 hour chunk waiting for me in the next few days. I was at work just before 5. Heavens. I made coffee, I worked like a wide awake/ sleep walking dreamer. Focused, light sensitive, a bit spacey. Did the main task I’d been putting off. Sent a few emails to hand on the baton and get other people to do the lingering bits that need conversations with people in office hours. I did all this, set my out of office email, re-recorded my voicemail message to tell anyone who wants to know that I am holiday. I snuck out by just after 7.30, desperate to leave before anyone arrived. I felt like some character from a spy film, thriller that involves breaking in to places and trying to beat the clock, steal company secrets and get out before the first lab coat wearing boffin turns the corner of the corridor. Only I wasn’t stealing anything I was doing work. Sneakily trying to leave one last project wrapped up. Hardly the stuff of thrillers, but it felt thrilling. Then I left. On the bus I nodded, like some early morning user. Wondering if I’d miss my stop, but I didn’t. Now I’m home. Delirious slightly- you mean that’s it? School’s out? I’m free to do what I want? What do I want?. Oh I know, mushrooms. Yes, but apart from mushrooms, what do I want. Toast? No, no, you know, this morning, today, this week? Sleep, and then… Anything. My words will be my own for 3 whole weeks (oh apart from a sneaky little meeting I agreed to go to later this week because its away from the office and the last one for the project). I can do random ramblings and get ready for Christmas, send parcels and write in cards and do washing and sleep in and read holiday books and have catch ups with old friends and family and do more nothing much, and, and, and. Yah.