Back to work
The story of my journey to the UK and back is not complete, I know.
I should find the time to type it and put it here, so the record is complete, but I cannot really open my diary (the paper diary) and read about it. Especially when I have just started to put aside, file away the bad sensations, the awful feelings that had grown in me British day after British day. I had got to the point of questioning my decision to keep this blog in English instead than in my mother language, and everything was confusing. Or confused, like me.
Anyway, back to work means that I'm packed with things to do and my boss thinks I am wonderwoman...Of course the secretary has taken the whole month off, so that once back she can find everything tidy thanks to...me. So far I've managed to file away about 400 emails and faxes, which is not bad, I guess. Sometimes I'm very proud of the way I handle this job, wherelse sometime I just wonder what the hell is going on with me when I see the mistakes I've made and which I could have avoided with just a little attention.
However, how sad: I'm back to this little-thinking, quick-writing routine. I must definetely take the time to type the second and final part of the story of my holiday, and do whatever else I had planned to do in a moment of bored energy.
I should find the time to type it and put it here, so the record is complete, but I cannot really open my diary (the paper diary) and read about it. Especially when I have just started to put aside, file away the bad sensations, the awful feelings that had grown in me British day after British day. I had got to the point of questioning my decision to keep this blog in English instead than in my mother language, and everything was confusing. Or confused, like me.
Anyway, back to work means that I'm packed with things to do and my boss thinks I am wonderwoman...Of course the secretary has taken the whole month off, so that once back she can find everything tidy thanks to...me. So far I've managed to file away about 400 emails and faxes, which is not bad, I guess. Sometimes I'm very proud of the way I handle this job, wherelse sometime I just wonder what the hell is going on with me when I see the mistakes I've made and which I could have avoided with just a little attention.
However, how sad: I'm back to this little-thinking, quick-writing routine. I must definetely take the time to type the second and final part of the story of my holiday, and do whatever else I had planned to do in a moment of bored energy.
posted by Peggy @ 3:53 PM
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