I don’t want to go back to work. This past week and a bit that I’ve had off has been fantastic.

Not that I’ve done anything remarkable (except, perhaps, single handedly driving up the price of coffee through wanton demand.), but I’ve had a great week nonetheless.

Each day has been spent alone in coffee shops, or with friends. I’ve seen more of Tasha and Lisa this week than I have for a long time, and when I go back to work I will genuinely miss chatting crap with the pair of them.

I’ve always maintained that were I to win the lottery, I’d retire. No ifs or buts, I’d have my resignation written out within ten minutes of having the lottery numbers confirmed.

‘But you’d get bored’ is often the accusation fired at me. Based on this past week, I really wouldn’t. A good book, a quiet place to read it, some time to fart about online and I’m a happy boy.

Add in to that equation that as a lottery winner I’d be rich and without any money troubles, and I think I’d be able to banish boredom from my dictionary.

That’s the thing about having time off though. However long it lasts, there always comes a time when you have to go back. I can’t be the only one to mentally start counting down the days until I have to go back once I’m past the half way point of my time off, can I?

For now, at least I feel rested. I’ve had a very selfish time, doing whatever I’ve wanted to do and it’s been great.

I can’t say I feel ready for a new challenge, but that’s only because I don’t have a new challenge planned. If this time off was immediately preceding starting at a new job, I dare say I’d be firing on all cylinders.

Actually, on reflection, I feel more confident at the moment. I guess that has a lot to do with having time off, and also the fact that the sun has been shining, which seems to have put everyone in a better mood.

Perhaps, for once in my life, I should not over-analyse things and simply enjoy things when they are good.

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