Two more days of pretending that I care about work and then I have a holiday. It's only a 9-dayer, but from this vantage point that looks like a year. I haven't had any time off--other than the regularly scheduled days--since April. I've experienced whole lives since then. Changed jobs. Changed religion twice. Watched a lifelong friendship die. Watched myself go crazy. Grew a beard and shaved it off three times. Lost two stone and put a stone back on.
And in spite of the fascinating and eventful journey I've been on, I'm bored to tears, almost. Perhaps on my break I will arrange to have myself fired from a giant catapult from the top of the London Eye so I can stop feeling as if I've done everything it's possible to do at least ten times.
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