It only took thirty minutes. That has got to be some sort of record.
I arrived in the office this morning, full of the joys of spring (or even summer) and ready to bore any who would stand still long enough with tales of Belgium, beer and unhealthy living.
Within the first 15 minutes work stuff brought me down to a more normal level. And then messages from the Ex took me a lot lower.
I worked out a while ago that rather than buying a place to live, I could take the pay-off from the divorce, buy an old camper van and live off the lump sum for four years before I needed to find a job. Plus, nobody would know where I was.
In my darker times I find myself seriously considering this. Then I consider First-born and usually discard the idea. Usually.
