And the livin' is easy

I've finally made it to my annual leave, which starts tomorrow for two weeks. No more... well, no more doing so many undesirable things that I just don't want to recall any of them to mind, really.

I've been in holiday mode for about a week in my mind, so the transition won't be as abrupt as, say two years ago, when Herself and I sat looking at each other for about one week of our two weeks holiday wondering what you do on leave. Nor like last year, when, improving as we were, the crossover from work mode to holiday took three of four days. This year I'm ready to rock.

Don't know what's wrong with the head, though. Depression being a fine companion these past decades, one usually is aware of what's bringing one's mood down. At worst, it tends to affect in a way I can cope with by using a step-by-step solution. Some days that can be as bad as "Okay. You've reached the bathroom. Now turn on the tap. You've washed the face. Now apply the shaving foam...." and so on. This time, I have the same feeling one gets with writers block. A kind of frustration. An inability to do anything constructive.

I suspect it is the unrelenting good weather, which we Irish are unaccustomed to dealing with! Balmy nights of broken sleep due to heat and poor air circulation have continued for several weeks now. This past week, things have cooled down and some semblance of normality is returning to sleep patterns.

I note too that Herself and I were both like the people in those old Golden Pages television adverts, where disaster was averted at the last minute by the services available in the phone book, and whose sighed hugely with relief when the problem was averted. High pressure work being removed (even with my mental preparedness this year) has resulted in the two of us doing passable impersonations of rag dolls these past couple of days. Tomorrow, when Monday rolls around and neither of us walk into a busy office, will hopefully see us getting into true holiday mode. I'll keep you posted.