I still tire very easily and, as with the previous surgery, I feel that it will probably be well into the new year before I am bounding about with unbridled energy.

In rather exciting news, I have lost 5kg by sheer indolence and snacks, and, even more excitingly, I can now fit into garments I’ve not been able to wear for a year (and when I say not wear, I mean not be able to get pants above my knees).

This weightloss is rather gratifying because it supports my argument that the damn mirena was making me fat. Hopefully actual exercise (when the eventual bounding occurs) will continue the un-fattening. I am very much longing to run and get my yoga on again.

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Visited Serge on Friday and he gave me the all clear (“yes, all signs indicate you had an infection”). This means that unfortunately tomorrow sees me back at the SaltMinesLimited.

Le sigh.

All this time off and general unwellness leads, of course, to introspection. Why am I spending so much time / life / energy at SML? What is the point of involving myself in the endless gossip / intrigue / machinations? What am I doing with my life? Shouldn’t I be working to live? &etc, rinse, repeat.

And so, Gosh-darn-it, I am going to try to claw some of my life back.

There is no need to spend 10-11 hours in the office each day. I have minions, if there is work to be done, I need to delegate more (especially to Vern-Percy, terribly-highly-paid, smh-reader-extraordinaire). Also, there are kitties that cannot be patted and played with and loved if I am selling my soul to The Man. And craft, and projects and blogging and friends – whatever happened to those while I was in thrall to TheMan?

I vow to leave before 5pm every day for the remainder of the year and I will only check werk phone once when I arrive home.

Yes, yes, I know that you have heard it all before. We will see how long it lasts.