The biggest challenge for this new positive mental attitude – first established on 1 January, and estimated to last approximately seven days – was the return to work on the 4th.
And, newsflash, it wasn’t that bad. In fact I was in what was something quite possibly approximating a good mood.
The boy got dressed, ate breakfast and went to nursery on time without even a murmur of a protest.
I caught the express bus and even felt a slight spring in my step as I made my way to the decaying old building disguising as the office of a slick communications operation for one of the world’s best universities.
Routine felt comfortable. The fresh air felt inspiring. I was ready to give up my festive existence remaining in nightwear, eating chocolates nonstop with one hand, flicking between one mediocre christmas film to another with another, while simultaneously thinking up reasons why I had something better to do than play shops/fireman/crane drivers with my beloved child.
So Wednesday was a good day, quite simply because it wasn’t quite so godawful as I ‘d imagined.
I even managed jovial chat with colleagues. You’d be mistaken for thinking I actually enjoyed spending time with them.
The cheer didn’t last.
Today I ran out of positivity.
I could have felt good about our director coming round to each of us individually to wish us a happy new year. There was even a handshake but thank god there was no kiss.
This merely reminded me that he is a bit of a knob.
I could have appreciated the crisp blue sky – a blessed relief after tornado-style winds and freezing cold rain.
But my walk outdoors was to go sale shopping. I came away empty handed realising that the only things I liked were either in obscure sizes or typically not in the sale.
I did try on a couple of things. Big mistake so soon after Christmas. Though apparently those changing room mirrors do lie. Unfortunately for me they are designed to make people look better.
Tommorrow is another day. But judging by my reflection, I can’t even look forward to cake.