At peace. Sort of.

Maiden attempt to be a domestic goddess was not too disastrous. I managed brownies, muffins and various versions of fish and chips without any fire engine or ambulance at my doorstep. And as much as I love being on sabbatical for the past 10 days, I could almost hear my pencils at work calling me home. Yes, work is home.

On a less pathetic note, leaving the borders was fruitful. I came back with seemingly permanent insomnia despite going cold turkey off coffee the entire week. There wasn’t anything bad about the trip, really. It was more of coming home from the trip. I kind of figured that being in foreign land would make it harder for a certain Mr. UOB or Mr. Citibank to reach me. Ok I’m dramatizing this. There is nothing red on the financial front. My savings took a deep dive and it is unlikely to come up for air. Not now, at least. This would be my cue for the impending salary revision. Make it happen, dammit.

It is almost noon and I haven’t had any sleep since the night before. I must be that psyched to get back to work. Wow.