Back to Work

Oh, those words....
Refreshed, even though not rested, everything seems logical and I am calm; mostly, accepting the barmy logic of a large organisation helps.
The fact that for a second summer running someone has stolen things from my office (last year, the set of Spice Girl figurines, this year, Swimming-baths Ken) makes me mildly upset rather than apoplectic with rage.
I have regrouped my self-respect (probably temporarily); standing on quicksand has become the norm and I wear a large pair of metaphorical flippers that allow me to proceed at a less panicky pace through the administrative tasks that shift and change shape before my eyes.
All is terrible: yes, I know.
I am still allowed to laugh, and to eat ice cream for as long as I can afford it!