D is sick. like coughing his lungs out, running a fever, and sneezing. he has finally succumbed to the year-end-freak-weather flu, and is feeling right miserable. he was supposed to be on annual leave today. but his boss was kind enough to tell him to change his annual leave to medical leave instead.
but instead of resting, he is slaving away at his home office, banging out some email which “shouldn’t take too long” and is “urgent”. and its been nearly an hour since he started. i love his commitment to his job, i do. i think its important that people take responsibility and deliver their urm, deliverables. while the doctor tells him he got a bacterial infection, and augmentin should sort it out nicely.
its been a bad season for D. he took me out for a lovely meal on my birthday, then stayed up till 4 am to finish some work while i bunked down, with a warm puppy (pepper) and a book for company (re-reading the James Herriot Series, which is perfect for christmas). i guess there are somethings we just have to get used to, as a lawyer’s wife. not complaining, just observing.
maybe its the book i’m reading. but again, i want to move out of here.
there is never enough money, or time, or breathing space here in the little sunny island — dont get me wrong. we are living well within our means. but really, i’m exhausted from keeping up with the surge of the rat race. the type that demands you carry the latest small leather good from XXX brand, the type that requires you to sort out work when you’re raging a fever of 38.6 degrees, the type that makes you squeeze onto the train at 11 am in the morning. the type that makes you leave your bed at midnight to answer some mail.
itching to go back to you-know-where, if even for a week. if even for pretend living.