Four days in and it’s time to go back to work and, by work, I mean to the place of my employment, not work as in physical labor because; I physically worked my ass off the first four days of this year, already.
1) I cooked a fab New Year’s Eve meal consisting of my two least favorite food groups; crustaceans and grazers (that’s steak and crab legs to you carnivores out there) and I managed the herculean feat of keeping my eyelids open long enough to see in the New Year (if you ignore the brief nap I accidentally took while Hugh and the kids were watching Ice Age 3 and, I do).
2) I packed up the car with enough provisions to last a family larger than ours in case of an actual emergency, drove to the local ice park, unpacked said provisions and supervised our annual sledding/snowboarding trip, repacked the car (minus less provisions than one might hope a family would have consumed during a five hour sledding/snowboarding trip), drove home, unpacked and reorganized one beeelion pairs of boots, gloves, hats, ski bibs, thermal undergarments plus enough left-over snacks to see us through to next year.
3) I spent several hours (otherwise known as a day and a half) dismantling my Christmas village, Christmas tree, outdoor Christmas decorations and storing the boxes away in the attic.
4) Fell off the attic ladder once (bruises! Contusions! No broken bones!).
5) Cleaned and reorganized my house and,
6) refereed fights between siblings who need to go back to school, like, yesterday.
To say that I am ready to go back to “work” seems like a misnomer.
It’s going to be a loooong year.