Back at work.

Lovely lovely break is over and now I have to wake up every morning and brush my hair. Never was there a tale of more woe. The nice thing is that now it's Spring, waking up at 6am no longer means stumbling around in th frigid dark. Instead the sun is rising and the air is full of birdsong. In spite of this I still buried my face in my pillow and pretended it was still 2am when I woke automatically, my in built alarm going off noisily.

I'm doing an elective term for 2 weeks to finish off my internship now, and it is only funded for 38 hours a week - no weekends and no overtime. So it's a gentle re-introduction. But that didn't stop me waking with a mouthful of bile and a belly full of snakes. In spite of the fact that I love my job I just did not want to go today, wanted to potter around and go to the gym and lie in the sun while the Possum climbs all over me. But alas no one wants to pay me for that, so I blow dried my hair and shaved 5 weeks of neglect off my legs (scary business) instead. Helped Bingley make lunches and brush hair and find matching socks. Spent far too long deciding if I should wear make up or not (not).

In the end though I was deposited at the train station while Bingley went to dispatch the 3 musketeers, clean, appropriately dressed (the heels may have been slightly ambitious, but still appropriate!) and ready to start the week, even if the enthusiasm was slightly awry. And that's when it started to unhinge. I'd left my wallet at home. My phone suddenly died. I had 20 minutes to get to first day of work ontime. Fark.

Luckily I had enough change scattered around the bottom of my tardis-esque hand bag to be able to call Bingley and ask him shamefacedly to drop me at work. Where I discovered that my healthy packed lunch had leaked all over my bag and my pager was broken. The hilarity! Except, at that point I couldn't help but laugh. What else could go wrong? And as it turns out... nothing. My day was pretty boing actually. Fair bit of paperwork, writing in charts, going to meetings, but on the whole it was a bit odd. Unlike my breathless surgical rotation which felt at times like an out of control steam engine that I just had to grip onto and enjoy the ride, it was kind of boring actually.

And THEN the most exciting thing happened. It was 4:30pm and still light outside and I got to go home. Home when I could still see the sun. And it was so nice. So lovely to walk out into the brilliant afternoon sunshine and head home. Walk around my thriving plants (I have emerald thumbs when I apply myself) and water my tomatoes and lettuce and herbs. Show the girls our amazing zucchini plants of wonder that have burst forth from the tiniest seeds in just days! (I have been taking a photo of them every day, enthalled by just how quickly they can grow, it's truly humbling to watch).

We made dinner together and ate it out on our verandah, the mozzie coils smoldering away and the citronella candles casting a bright red glow over the table. Chatting about our days and the things that we did and said. Bright cheerful conversation over bright cheerful food.

And I know that there will be harder days than this. Last time I did this rotation I was a complete mess, emotionally unable to cope and seeking any possible distraction from the pain that I was confronted with daily. But at the moment, even though I'm deathly tired and it's not even 8pm, I feel happy.