It hasn’t been the best of days. I seem to have channelled whatever frustrations from the workplace I have towards becoming as angsty and grumpy as I can, surprising even myself with my impatience at times. At 6pm I was so ready to call it a day, but deadlines loom large and I decided to push on.
Only two comfort chocolates and a conscious effort to snap out of it finally turned things around for the sunnier. Ironic, isn’t it, that the clouds gathered within as soon as the rainy weather stopped? The mental gear shift worked surprisingly well; I was instantly cheerier, if still a little tired. Must be all those late nights over the weekend.
At 7pm I was ready to leave. At 7.15pm my planned departure met with an unexpected hitch – more stupid people out to test my patience. I behaved myself and dreamed of climbing into bed early with a good DVD or two. At 7.30pm my mother-in-law called. Details of our upcoming trip to Europe have to be finalised. Guess I won’t be going to bed early after all.
And that was how I ended up spending the better part of the night in front of the computer, planning, researching and booking stuff for Paris, mother-in-law by my side. It definitely wasn’t my idea of a great night in, not compared with the DVDs I’d lined up in my head and not today especially, but it turned out to be a totally unexpected mood booster. I forgot I was tired, I definitely wasn’t grumpy; in fact, I felt oddly refreshed and energised. In short, I was happy.
I was so happy I packed Y’s lunch, put away clean laundry, even ironed a pair of Y’s jeans for tomorrow morning at midnight and still felt great! It was ridiculous. Even as I type this, I’m already looking forward to another work day and wondering if I should rise a little earlier to prepare breakfast.
In between wondering who this Sophia is and what she’s done to the real one, I wonder if I’ve gone manic depressive. Or was it all in my head and all I had to do was drag myself out of the doldrums. Who’d ever have thought that planning a holiday could be almost as therapeutic as taking one. That’s it – no more playing Oscar the grouch for me.
