Work is tiring.

Oh yes, I did just say that.

I’ve completed my first week of proper, adult work (this is not to say that I have never worked before – indeed, I was a shop manager in my previous life) and I am tired. Today, I slept until 2. Yesterday, I slept until Mama Fox phoned me at 5 in the afternoon, and I fear I would have slept even longer had she not acted as a wake-up call.

It is strange to be back at work full time. I have not had full-time employment since my early uni years, when I would return to my hometown during the holidays and work every hour under the sun to try and claw my way out of the depths of my overdraft. When the company I worked for went under (Principles, RIP), I was about to start the third year of my degree course and decided to concentrate on that and survive on what I could. And so it was for my subsequent third year of uni (yes, yes) and post-grad qualification, whereby I became rich in qualifications and far less so in monetary terms. Needless to say, academic life, followed by the now inevitable period of unemployment, has bequeathed me a sleep pattern best described as chaotic, bordering on nocturnal. 9-6 (and no break! How and when will I nap?!) is going to take some getting used to.

Friends, I have spent most of this weekend asleep, and I am still tired. How long before I emerge from my unemployed, student chrysalis as a fully functional grown-up?

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