26th August 2014, City of London., London
Well I guess it had to come to an end at some stage.
After leaving a prior 80 hours work-a-week life style for a summer of travelling, daily naps, Tuesday brunching, general mischief and adventure, it was time to get back to work.
Having struggled to find appealing roles with the prospects I was after (in other words, being more motivated to bake cookies and watch Jeremy Kyle than I was to get back to work), I finally found the place. I instantly hit it off with the manager, loved the job spec and to top things off, I would be able to walk to work in 10 minutes - it was a done deal in my mind. And with that, back to work I was.
Although my outlook to getting back to work was largely positive... Damn did I not enjoy the whole getting out of bed before noon deal! That and the whole idea of putting make up on, doing my hair and not wearing my leopard sweat pants out in public. If you've ever dressed a five-year-old for a party in nice party clothes, it was about the same reaction when I got a suit on. 'But I don't want to wear these clothes, they don't feel good. You're mean mummy'!
Dragging myself to work was the worst of it. I had completely forgotten the ludicrous amount of people that will be out and about at 8 AM, all thinking that they're in the biggest hurry of all human beings in the world. I got back into habitual swearing at other Londoners and overtaking slow walkers in about 10 minutes. Like riding a bike.
Once there, I quite liked getting into this thing I used to call routine. Getting my morning coffee before 2 PM, trying to find the best spot for lunch, organising my stationary and getting reacquainted with my beloved Excel. It was all rather enjoyable surprisingly enough.
Me and my pencil skirt are officially back in the game!
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