Work gathers, picks pace and pushes aside everything else, especially the hobbies that I had clung onto all these months. The weeds have been pulled out, the table is spanking clean, the files – ready to be opened.
I clear out a section in my mind and make space for new work stuff that I’m training to love. I do this between the lines of poetry in The New Yorker.
Cheers to work! Work, here I plunge. <Sound of water splashing>
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