I’m working from home for the next few Fridays – with a break in the middle of the day to accompany my eldest daughter to a regular appointment to help with her anxiety. On top of that it’s Valentines Day – so I’ll be expected to acquire flowers from somewhere – and we also have a guy booked to service our heating.
Somehow – during the time I’m going to try to get something done, I’m expected to pull a rabbit from a hat and deliver what might usually take three or four days in one day – the same day where I’ll be attempting to not drop the ball with everything else.
I rarely bring work home with me – I certainly never talk to my other half, or the children about it. I’m not sure they would understand any of it anyway – and of course the flip-side is they never discover how much pressure I’m sometimes under. Yes, the pressure is often self-imposed, but it’s there, and it’s not much fun.
I have a mountain to climb tomorrow.
I think an early night might be in order such that I get an early start on the mountain in the morning.