The value add 


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Image credit: Picture Quotes 

I have a very real fear of being considered boring. Not real in the sense that I am boring, just that I worry about being considered boring. Which is weird for me because I also like to think I don’t worry much about what others think but clearly I do. I’m a woman of contradictions, ok? I’m not afraid to admit it. 

I’m brought to this conclusion by the events of the past two days (and also the rest of my life leading up to now ūüėČ). We’ve been staying at the chateau of cognac house Pierre Ferrand and, during our stay, we’ve had to go on tours/socialise with people we’ve never met before. As a rule, I’m not a huge fan of big groups where I don’t know anyone so my first response was to quietly freak out and retreat into my shell. The introvert in me won the first round. Then the performer came out… I’ll explain why. 

I have a thing about people who come to events, parties, dinners, etc. and, in my words, “don’t add any value.” Yes, I’m aware of how bitchy this makes me sound and yes it’s mean but I can’t help it. Despite being an introvert myself when surrounded by strangers, I always have this phrase in the back of my mind and it’s a rare social event that this mantra doesn’t force me to be more social, despite lacking a natural inclination to do so. Back to that fear of being considered boring. No one puts Nat in a corner, if you will. ūüėČ

So, on our first night in Cognac, we’re surrounded by boozing Brits, Americans and various other strangers and most of me wants to hide in my room (to be fair, I was also quite tired) but the other part says, “No, you’ve got to get out there and be fun. Get on, hop to it.” And so I did. I jumped in the fountain with everyone, balanced a wine glass on my ass, challenged people to boules and upped my banter game to 11. When my social energy ran low, I went and sat in our room and headed back down when I felt recharged. I often feel like there’s a fun me and a quiet me and, on that night, the fun me won. 

Last night, we were at dinner with the owner/master blender of the cognac house, his mentor and one of his distributors and the distributor’s wife. The conversation around the table was in English so I was thankfully able to participate but the distributor’s wife didn’t say much. I think it may have been more of a language barrier thing or maybe she was tired (they had a full day of tours and tastings) but this is exactly what I fear for myself when I’m out and not “on”. She was fine when you specifically engaged her or asked her a question, which I did a few times, but aside from that she was very quiet. Which, of course, she’s allowed to be. She’s not there to entertain anyone or be their all-singing, all-dancing ra-ra girl and she was a-ok with that. 

But the thing is… I’m clearly not. Not for myself anyway. And, if I’m honest, usually not for others when there isn’t a good excuse. So it’s a very rare day when I won’t be able to somehow pull myself out of my shell to work my supposed charms in a group setting. Because, for me, one of the worst things you can be is boring and I often don’t care how much it costs me. 

The terror of the road


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Image credit: Shear Comfort

I have to confess: I’m one of those half-adults that never learnt to drive. Cue shock, horror and possible unsubscription.

When I was growing up in Jamaica, learning to drive wasn’t the right of passage it is for many teens in developed countries. Not many families had cars and, even if they¬†did, you often had to bribe officials to get your licence. When my mum’s Australian licence expired, she refused to bribe anyone to get new one but she still drove around so we ended up just lived in fear of getting pulled over by the police and her getting in trouble. And most likely having to pay a bigger bribe to get out of said trouble. I learnt to drive in the back streets of the rural area where we lived (inc. reversing up a long, steep driveway) but never drove on any main roads. Actually I lie. Once I ended up accidentally having to drive on a main road for about 5 seconds – it was fucking terrifying!

Anyway, it seems I haven’t lost my talent for digression. When I moved to Sydney, I was the right age to get my licence but I lived with my grandparents. I knew if I learnt to drive I would end up becoming my grandpa’s chauffeur and I didn’t like my grandpa so I refused¬†to get my licence. Yep, I refused to learn to drive out of spite and, honestly, I regret nothing. Fast forward sixteen years and here I am. On my third round of L plates, wondering if I really and truly need to learn to drive.

See, I’ve sat the computer test three times but never actually taken my driving test. The first time, Jared had a manual car, the lessons were hard and then the guy was a creep so I gave up and my Ls expired. Eventually, I sat the computer test again, can’t remember why I didn’t bother learning properly that time but, either way, my licence¬†expired again. This time, I’ve sat the computer test and done lessons with an instructor, Jared and my mum and I’ve got the test booked in for 2 weeks’ time and I’m fucking freaking out.

You see, in Australian teen drivers have to keep a logbook and have¬†100 (or is it 120?) hours of driving time before they can sit their test. When you’re over 25, you don’t need a log book and the hour limit doesn’t apply to you. You can basically sit your test whenever you’re ready. And I don’t feel ready. The thought that I might be loose on the streets behind the wheel of a moving vehicle is a terrifying thought. I don’t think I’m an intentionally unsafe driver but I’m definitely not super confident. And driving on the road and seeing how other people – supposedly qualified drivers – drive is definitely not making me feel any safer.

It’s scary out there! People don’t follow the rules and driving takes so much concentration. I find it hard to stay focused when something is really monotonous so I’m worried I’m going to zone out on a long stretch of road, go through a red light and… let’s just end this nightmare right here. Gah! I live in the city. Why do I need to drive?! Also, I have a husband who is an excellent chauffeur. Then again, he has said I can get a Mini Cooper if I get my licence… so there’s that little incentive. But then again, it means I have to learn to drive. Ahhhhh… being a grown up is full of tough decisions, you guys.

I suppose I can get my licence and keep driving with supervision until I feel more confident. But – PLOT TWIST!! – I can’t drive Jared’s car if/when I move up to a provisional licence because his car is on a forbidden list for P Platers (i.e. it’s too powerful). So I suppose I’ll just have to get that Mini Cooper then… ūüėČ


Image credit: Everything Bikes

Day two!


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Image credit: Inspiration Boost

After posting for the first time in ages, I felt awesome. Energised! I went to bed later that night and my mind was whirling with ideas, which was annoying because I was tired but it was still better than having no ideas. Three years ago, when I first started this blog, I struggled so much with what to write about. I would trawl through the Daily Prompt desperate for ideas. I kept a list of links to appealing prompts saved in my phone to bust out when inspiration failed to strike me. And, back then, it failed to strike me often.

It took awhile but one day I noticed I hadn’t used those prompts in ages. In fact, nothing grabbed me when I looked through them.¬†I had heaps of drafts lined up in WordPress and ideas would pop into my head on the bus, in the shower, before I went to sleep (which is where I got the idea for this post along with two others). It’s like your brain¬†builds a natural curiosity about things or starts using writing as a way of thinking complicated (or sometimes very mundane) things through.

Not to say that I think it’s going to be easy from here on out but I definitely want to try and commit myself to writing more frequently. I might be busy but I’m not that busy that I can’t spare 30mins or an hour to do something I love. I can’t work all the time and do not much else. I tried that for six months and it fucking sucks. Take it from me, guys. Make the time, you’re never that fucking busy. You think you are but you’re not. And fuck, maybe you are but still, you can’t spare even 10 – 20 mins to do whatever it is you really enjoy? Go for a walk, watch your favourite program, play with your dog, whatever. You’ve got to have some ‘you’ in all that ‘them’.

So I have two more ideas for posts and we’ll see what else comes to me. There are other things I want to do besides write, like, I don’t know, maybe exercise. That’s fallen by the wayside as well. But let’s just start small. Baby steps.¬†One day at a time. Plus I’m not super keen on getting back to exercise (to be honest, I’m that unfit I’m a bit worried) so we’ll just focus on the writing for now. It’s much less taxing. ūüėČ

So, I’m alive


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Image credit: HippoQuotes

I promised myself I would do some writing tonight and it seems I’ve succeeded. I did watch an episode of American Horror Story first but, you know what, that’s ok. I’m here now and that’s what matters. I haven’t posted anything in three months so, for me, the main thing was that I didn’t come home and just get back on the computer and do more work. There have been so many nights where I’ve told myself I’ll write¬†something, anything but then I start with just a little bit of work and next thing I know it’s midnight and… fuck! It’s happened again.

Back in November, I started doing the social media and events for two of Jared’s bars and, at the time, I naively thought I’d be able to do that part time and keep working for my other bosses (albeit reduced hours). Oh boy was I wrong. The social media is fine but the events… They’ve spiralled into so much more than a full time role. This week I’m actually training someone to start helping me because it’s too much for one person. It’s a good problem to have; too many events. And I’m loving it but, god, it’s been a full on six months.

I’ve been working some very long days. For the last I don’t even know how many weeks, there’ve been many nights when I’ll come home and get straight back on the computer to work and won’t get to bed til midnight or 1am. Then I’m back on the computer – back at work – from 9am or 10am. I hate it. Not the job, mind you. Just the workload. The lifestyle. The fact that I literally go from work to bed with no me time aside from¬†maybe watching TV while eating dinner. It sucks but it should get better soon. Even if it doesn’t get better before we go on holiday, it should at least get better when I’m back and the new girl is all trained up and we have our systems in place.

Oh yes. The holiday. The light at the end of the tunnel, our belated honeymoon. Nine weeks of European bliss.

  1. Paris
  2. Barcelona
  3. Rome
  4. Dubrovnik
  5. Sailing the Croatian Islands
  6. Mykonos, Milos and Santorini
  7. Sicily and then a road trip from the Amalfi Coast up to Florence and then back across to Milan.

I cannot fucking wait and thankfully there are only 5.5 weeks until we fly. It can’t come soon enough as far as I’m concerned. It’s starting to get that chill in the air here¬†and¬†little old me will be quite happy to ditch¬†winter in favour of an endless summer. We’ll be back mid-August so we really won’t see too much of winter this year, thank fuck. If we ever become super rich, that will be my request: travel the world so we never see another winter… unless it’s by choice. Fuck. That. Shit. I want to¬†spend my days in as little clothing as legally possible and winter ain’t gonna help me achieve that life goal. No siree, bob.

So yeah, that’s been me for the past six months but I want to do better. Just typing¬†this now makes me realise how much I’ve missed writing. I feel a bit rusty but that’s nothing a¬†bunch of good ol’ practice won’t fix. I just need to make time. Fuck, it’s not like it takes long.

A friend asked me the other day if I was going to get back to my writing once work settled down and, at the time, I thought no. In that moment, I think I just desperately wanted to have just some free time to do absolutely nothing. Maybe to read. Anything. I hadn’t written in so long that it felt like an impossibility.¬†But look at me now! I’m fucking flyin’, Chop! Sorry, that’s Chopper reference. I’m pretty sure it will only make sense to Australians or people that are familiar with Eric Bana’s early work. Watch the movie. You won’t be disappointed.

Anyway, that’s enough from me. I’ve¬†kept my promise to myself and I’m happy with my effort. Now I just need to keep it up. It’s the follow through has always been the tough bit for me.

Representation matters


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Image credit: TES

I read an interesting article on Facebook the other day. It was about the movie Rogue One and the effect the accent of Mexican actor Diego Luna had on a woman and her father, who is also from Mexico and has a similarly heavy accent. If you want to read the article, do so here.

I don’t have an accent, but as a brown person who, as a child, rarely saw people that looked like myself on TV or anywhere else that matters, I teared up reading this article.¬†It might seem like a little thing but representation¬†does¬†matter. When children don’t see people that look like them held up in the media as¬†someone pretty or valuable or even just normal, they grow up feeling like outsiders. They feel different from everybody else, like they don’t exist.

For me, the saddest part about this is that I grew up as a mixed race brown person in Australia where everyone (well, not everyone but the vast majority) was white. When we moved to Jamaica when I was 10, I thought, ‘Finally, I’ll be like everyone else!’ But the opposite happened. People in Jamaica considered me white. I wasn’t one of them. I was a white person as well as a foreigner. An outsider squared. The only upside was that I found other mixed race children to hang out with and also brown skin was considered more desirable than darker skin so¬†I traded up in that respect. Still, I was too skinny to fit the ideal Jamaican body type so I suppose I broke even in the end.

I don’t know how much different my life would have been if I was born looking like everyone else. When you’ve never looked like everyone else, you can’t possible imagine what it would be like to fit in. In the same way I’d imagine that if you’ve always been one of the majority, you can’t really see the privilege your skin colour, your slim body or your accentless voice gives you. Not that this is anyone’s fault. It’s just the way the world is and it will be a long time before anything changes in a major way. But it made me smile that something like this got so much traction, that people were moved by how¬†happy one person¬†was made because he saw a hero on screen that looked and sounded like him. Imagine how a young boy or girl would feel if they saw someone that looked like them featured in a magazine or in a movie and as a major character rather than just the sidekick to the hero? And it’s not even just a race thing – it’s a gender thing, a plus size (not sure if I like that term but oh well) thing, a sexuality thing. There are so many ‘things’ that can automatically dump you in outsider territory besides just race.

Yet with all I just said, I like enjoy different nowadays. I like being ‘exotic’. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But then again, I can’t, can I? I’ve just learned to love the things that make me look different from everyone else. I’m sure some people with the same experience still wish they could fit in and look like the people around them. And I think that’s sad and I hope one day they can embrace the things that make them different. Because the world is a better place for diversity even if Hollywood and fashion magazines and TV shows are only just starting realise it.

I’m back and I ate (nearly) all the Tim Tams


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Image credit: Dai Manuel

Happy New Year (12 days late, I know)!

I’ve been having a somewhat cruise-y time of it of late. I’ve had the public holidays off from any kind of work but have had to do a little bit for Jared on the days when his bars are trading and we need to confirm/take bookings.

During that time, we spent two nights in Merimbula for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Not very relaxing but lots of fun. We then spent from the 2nd to the 7th up at this amazing house in Whale Beach. That was relaxing with a fair smattering of fun thrown in for good measure.¬†Definitely didn’t want to come home but had a comedy show on the night of the 7th and then a music festival on the Sunday. Both well worth coming back for although I wouldn’t have agreed with that statement while I was lazing by the pool in Whale Beach.¬†Glorious pictures below – first one is of a random beach we found in Merimbula while waiting for our flight and the second is the view from our holiday rental in Palm Beach.

Am on a break from my other bosses until Monday and have only had to do a very little bit of work for them – once a week at most – which has been nice. It’s sooo much easier to keep a handle on things when you only have one boss!

Now that we’re back home and returned from the places we spent our New Year break, it’s time to get my ass in gear and get productive. I’ve felt very productive work-wise. Been getting a lot of stuff planned and organised for the events and social media stuff for Jared’s bars. I’m trying to be proactive and think up ways to improve processes and make things run smoother. I know I’ll have less time next week when I start back for my other bosses so I want to get as much as I can done now, while I still have the time.

I also want to start a new photo board for our kitchen wall. I redid it all last year and it would be nice to make some updates to include the various entries and exits our social life has seen. I had also planned to create some photo books with the pics from our wedding and possibly distribute those to our family and maybe the bridal party (depending on costs). Also, I still need to get cracking on those digital marketing and content creation courses I was going to do instead of my usual studies. They’re definitely not as time consuming as my uni degree but I still want to get started.

Oh yes, and the gym. Back to pilates and training I must go. I’m in the process of getting my wedding dress altered (cut shorter) so I can wear it again and, when I went to try it on today, it was more than just a little bit tight around my Xmas stuffing (i.e. my tummy). Thankfully, it was able to be fully zipped up and clasped but it was touch and go for awhile there. So yeah, exercise and better eating is something that’s going to have to happen soon. Why oh why did I find that packet of Tim Tams in the cupboard? That was a very¬†unfortunate event.

So while I do have a decent sized to do list, I’m also not putting any pressure of myself to make any radical changes. 2016 me is still totally acceptable to me although of course there is always room for improvement. 2017 me is ready to go – although I do need to have a quiet word to her about moderation when it comes to eating any sweets she finds in the house. That bitch has no chill.


Image credit: somelife

Goddammit, brain, you’ve got all day to think of this shit!


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Image credit: Pinterest

It’s 6.11am and my brain has been whirring away since 4am. I had a bad dream and then a mosquito attacked me and I haven’t been able to get back to sleep since. Oh yes, also my pug was¬†panting ¬†all night. It’s hot so I can’t really blame him but that didn’t stop me from putting him down on the floor around 5.30am. He seems to prefer it though (or at least the panting has calmed somewhat).

Aside from all the little disturbances, it’s mostly been my brain that’s been keeping me up. Despite having¬†plenty¬†of awake time, it seems to think the hours between 4am and 6am are¬†optimum spots to consider things like: social media posts, things to raise in today’s management meeting and what/who’s been annoying me lately. While I agree that these are all valid things to¬†think about, I definitely don’t agree that 4am – 6am is the best time to do so. I mean, come on. I went to bed around 11pm, and, thanks to my over-active brain, I now need to operate all day on 4 – 5hrs broken sleep. Thanks for nothing, cerebrum (not sure if it’s actually the cerebrum’s fault but I have no patience to run a google search right now on what part of the brain is actually responsible for this travesty).

This doesn’t happen to me all that often but, when it does, goddamn it’s frustrating. I can only imagine how maddening it must be for people with insomnia. There have been times when I’ve felt it coming on where I’ve popped half a Valium just so I could be done with it. Tonight (or should I say, this morning?), I realised too late that I wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep and a Valium at that point would have¬†left me groggy all day. If those are my options, I’ll go with tired and cranky 99% of the time. Don’t know why. Sucker for punishment maybe.

Then again, maybe I should be grateful. After all, some of what my brain is throwing at me is actually useful stuff it hasn’t been able to come up with during the day. Perhaps what I need to do is have a chat with it about how to take notes (so it¬†doesn’t forget) and then it can raise all these great ideas with me in the morning, when it’s a reasonable time to have these discussions. Surely this is something the brain would be open to? I mean, we all have to get along in this body of mine. No point pissing one another off unnecessarily. Of course, this assumes my brain is benevolent and interested in helping me and working together. If it’s not… we’ll, let’s not consider that.

Blankets and bed-wetting. I would say it gets better but I don’t like to lie


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Can’t believe there’s a meme for this! Image credit: Pinterest

Did you ever have¬†those hyper-realistic bed-wetting dreams as a kid? The ones where you wake up convinced you’ve peed yourself and start feeling around the sheets only to find it was a dream. Like that isn’t the worst idea ever. Yes, of course, I want my hands to be covered covered in pee. That’s exactly how I want this story to end. But then again, I suppose¬†if you’ve peed the bed, you’d know instantly because you’d be in a puddle of your own making.¬†And the very next thing you’d do would be to call out “Muuuuumm!” Ahh childhood, isn’t it grand? I suppose it’s even “better” if you’re the parent that has to clean all that mess up (not that I’d know, being quite happily child free for nigh on 34 years now ;)).

Anyway, as usual, I’ve gone off topic. I had a point and it was that I still get those dreams as an adult every now and again. I never actually wake up to find I’ve peed the bed (thank god) although I have¬†very slightly poo-ed the bed once when I was very sick and I have to say there was no fucking warning dream for that! Sorry, too much information, I know, I’ll carry on with my bed-wetting dream story (cos that’s sooooo much better). But yes, the body seems quite good and interrupting the usual programming to tell you you need to get the fuck out of bed to relieve your bladder. It’s right too. Every time I wake up in a panic thinking I’m going to have some ‘splaining to do, I never actually do but I definitely¬†need to go pee. It’s a handy little alarm system really.

I think I have a bit of a weird relationship with my bed and sleeping¬†in general. I always, always, always have to sleep with a doona/blanket/duvet/whatever you call it in your country of origin/residence. This is regardless of how hot it might be. In Sydney, we’re currently experiencing one of our hottest summers on record (in over a century, I believe). Yesterday was the hottest day in I don’t know how long. Yesterday and today were both 36 degrees¬†(you Americans can figure that shit out yourselves as punishment for Trump). It’s fucking HOT AS BALLS (a ridiculous phrase seeing as balls are biologically designed to keep cool) down here and yet I had to sleep with at least a piece of myself under the doona. Hell, I started off with the whole of myself under there because that’s the only way I can fall asleep. I weirdly don’t feel safe otherwise.

My child mind is convinced that whatever grim creatures¬†slither¬†out into the darkness when the lights go off will only be able to grab me if I’m not under the doona. Cos that’s how night time works. Blankets are your protection, your talisman against unwanted advances from the Boogie Man. And, fucking idiot that I am, I¬†listen to my child mind and say, ‘Yes, that makes total sense. Let’s sleep under this fucking doona in close to 40 degree heat (we have no aircon, just a stupid fan that circulates the hot air and fucks with my sinuses) because monsters will get us otherwise and – fuck it – I grew up in Jamaica, what’s a bit of night time roasting if it means you don’t get snatched by the demon from Paranormal Activity?’

Are you still following me? Basically, I’m an idiot. Carry on.


Also this. Image credit: Pinterest

Well, here we are again. That didn’t take long…


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Image credit: Pinterest

So, this is my sixth week working from home and, to be honest, I don’t feel like I’m anymore on top of it than I was when I last posted nearly four weeks ago (wow, that’s a pretty shit effort. I apologise). Between the new role with Jared’s bars (event and social media management) and my existing job (albeit with reduced hours) AND my uni work, I feel pretty frantic the majority of the time. I also end up going into the city most days either to take photos for social media or for meetings and site visits so the whole work from home thing isn’t a 100% reality (although I do most of my work from there and I don’t really mind the occasional break and chance to socialise).

That being said, hospitality in December is always hectic with xmas parties and bookings and so forth so I would expect that to be taking up a lot of my time but who knows how much it will drop off after that? I have time off from my other two jobs between 15 Dec and 16 Jan so that will be nice but I have some serious doubts about how sustainable this all is. Granted, I’m usually quite stressed the first two – three weeks of uni so this could be totally normal but part of me is also more than a bit over it.

I’m doing the social media stuff I wanted to be doing. Wasn’t that the goal? I suppose getting a degree was also the goal but I’m so. damn. tired. Maybe I just pause and do a social media/digital marketing course? Or am I just making excuses because I’ve hit a rough patch and there’s too much change in my life and I just want to take a step back and not feel so stressed all the time? I had a look online and my census date (the date after which I get penalised if I pull out of my units) is Monday so I have until then to decide. Of course, I can withdraw after that but it will show on my transcript, which is not ideal.

I really don’t want to quit yet another thing I said I would finish but part of me no longer sees the relevance. I just want to be a normal adult again! I keep getting little tastes of freedom here and there but then it’s so hard to go back and, every time someone asks me what I want to do with my degree, it just reinforces how little I’ve actually thought about what I want to do with this damn thing. *sigh*

I’m liking the variety of what I’ve currently got going on, even if it is a bit of a strain switching between the various roles. The events stuff lets me be organised and have some customer contact while the social media stuff allows me to be creative – writing little snippets of text and taking pictures, which is something I’m definitely improving at with practice. My other roles with my existing bosses is more of the organisation style stuff, which is ok and boosts my hours and brings in more money, which is never a bad thing.

I’ll ponder things this week. I already looked at some social media courses just to see what’s out there plus I have access to this online platform that has a few good social media tutorials so I might have a play around in there and see if anything grabs me.

Why is it so hard to decide what I want to be when I grow up?


Image credit: Best Daily Quotes

#workfromhomelife continues


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Image credit: Shawn and Emily Stoik

This week marks my second week of working from home. I have one more week (next week) to get used to¬†everything and start managing my time in preparation for *da da da daaaa* the return of uni *shudder* So far I’ve been doing things willy-nilly, not really thinking much about hours and the response times we put in place, mainly because I didn’t really have that much else going on so I didn’t mind responding to non-urgent emails at 9pm. I’d see a notification flash up on my phone and I’d be curious so I’d read it¬†and then think, well, I may as well answer¬†it. It’ll take two seconds.

And that’s all well and good for now but it’s not going to cut it when I’m back at school. I need strong boundaries in place so I keep enough time aside for my studies. I’m also finding that I’m not spending as much time on work for my other bosses, especially this week. I’m getting everything done that’s necessary but I’ve been pushing a lot of non-time critical stuff back. Not the end of the world by any means but I’m definitely not giving them the time I’d allocated. One boss is fine, she doesn’t need all that much but the other had a significant reduction in his hours. Not that I think he would notice but I do and he¬†certainly will when he sees my timesheet at the end of the fortnight.

I chalk it up to the fact that one of Jared’s bars launched a new cocktail menu this week and so needed more than usual social media. Plus I had to be in the city for a second day to do some site visits with¬†potential event bookings. So I spent a lot more time than what I can only assume is normal (after two weeks of this role) with one particular venue/business. We’ll see, I suppose I can always try and get more done on Fridays when I don’t work for my other bosses. Next week my goal is to do a dry run and stick to my hours and manage my time as if I am already studying so that, when I do actually start, I’m already¬†halfway used to it.

On the upside, I’m pretty chuffed to report that I’ve been going to pilates (three times last week and another three times this week, including tomorrow) and we had a session with our trainer on Wednesday (oh my god, my legs hurt so bad after this and yet I still went to pilates the next day like a goddamn fool). Jared has been sick and busy so I’ve tried to book myself into pilates for the days we’ve missed at the trainer so I’m at least doing something.

I used to do pilates alllllll the time a few years ago and going back after such a long time makes me realise how ridiculously weak I’ve become but at least I’m doing something about it now, right? Plus, even though I’m from home, I do a bit more walking when I’m in the city as I usually have to walk between the various businesses. Not sure if that adds up to more or less walking across the week (probably a bit less if I’m honest) but I’m kind of using working from home as my reason to force myself to do pilates. It’s just down the road and my hours are flexible – there’s no good reason why I can’t get down there everyday or at least three or four days a week (if we don’t see our trainer).

So yeah, that’s me. Living the dream at home but still trying to figure it all out.¬†Haven’t quite gotten to the nudity/peejay dream yet but I suppose gym gear is that little bit closer.


Image credit: Pinterest