Bored But Cured

I’m feeling bored out of my skull. Oh sure there are work to be done, all boring stuff of course. Bored, bored, bored. The section I’m in is really running thin: we haven’t got a replacement for someone who resigned with effect from 31 December, nor have we got any replacement for another who left to pursue her Master since end-January. My boss is on MC [hurrah!] and another colleague is on maternity leave [she just delivered her baby a couple of days ago].

Just thinking about the above makes me want to hyperventilate.

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After a poor night on Sunday and a slightly bad night on Saturday [had finished the two sleeping pills doctor gave me], I decided I must absolutely do something about my prolonged insomnia. So I left the office early on Monday as I planned to have an early night. And I did everything I could think of: lit up the aromatherapy with candle, lit up the salt lamp, had the sleep/eye mask handy, drew the curtain, turned on the humidifier/ioniser to drown out the traffic noise [it gets very noisy at times as cars zoom by at the road behind micasa], drank milk an hour before I slept [as opposed to drinking it just before climbing into bed], and even did some light stretching while watching TV. Alhamdulillah, I slept like a baby ‘til just before the alarm woke me up. Woke up Tuesday morning thanking God for the good night had. I repeated the same procedures again on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, just in case.

Let’s hope there will be no more recurring insomnia episodes. Amen.

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It’s been sooo unbearably hot, hot, hot the past few days. Thank God for the rain that came early this morning and that poured during lunch and the dark clouds outside that promise imminent rain.

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The bosses are away and I’m bored. Sorry, have I mentioned that before? It’s supposed to be happy hours but somehow it’s just not as fun as it would have been previously.

I wish for the umpteenth time that I am doing something I really love. And what do I love besides travelling and shopping and eating? I should be the female version of either Anthony Bourdain or Barry Vera [except I’m no chef of course and don’t aspire to be one], or the Asian version of Samantha Brown. Or I could be the real living version of Becky Bloomwood and be a personal shopper.

Instead I am doing something desk-bound with a portfolio of projects that threatens to trigger headaches in a department with a mouthful name. And golly, suddenly it’s already the end of quarter 1 with projects due for completion nowhere near completion and projects due to be started nowhere near commencement. Dang, dang, dang.

The weekend can’t come soon enough.