Greetings to you all at the end of my second day at my all-new job. Even though it's only been a mere three months, I'd forgotten how a full day's work sitting in front of a computer number-crunching (um, as opposed to faffing round on Facebook or blogsurfing...) has the ability to totally liquidise the brain. Meh.
This means that all intentions of 50 minutes on the treadmill (to ward off those desk jockey kilos, several of which I managed to shed over the summer) have gone out the window tonight, and I won't be considering any intentional physical activity until the weekend.
Seeing as it's Easter and therefore traditional to consume kilos of Hot Cross Buns smothered in lashings of butter and one's own body weight in chocolate-coated marshmallow Easter eggs, I better make sure I do something active otherwise than shovel said delicacies into my mouth.
As for the all-new job, it's going to be extremely busy one, but first there's a lot of organisation and delegation and streamlining to do, plus some serious sorting out of "helpless" men who wander in off the factory floor wanting to know how to work the photocopier, despite being shown countless times.
As for the Other Harf, he's officially announced his resignation to his team (some of whom "broke down" at the news but I suspect some gross exaggeration on the OH's part here) and the rest of the company, fending off the very best efforts from his manager to intice him to stay on. He finishes at the end of May, and plans on having a bit of a break from the paid workforce.
Little does he know he's about to enter the unpaid workforce! A Everest-sized stockpile of firewood is gathering, waiting for the chop even as I type this...
Bwah-ha-hah!
This means that all intentions of 50 minutes on the treadmill (to ward off those desk jockey kilos, several of which I managed to shed over the summer) have gone out the window tonight, and I won't be considering any intentional physical activity until the weekend.
Seeing as it's Easter and therefore traditional to consume kilos of Hot Cross Buns smothered in lashings of butter and one's own body weight in chocolate-coated marshmallow Easter eggs, I better make sure I do something active otherwise than shovel said delicacies into my mouth.
As for the all-new job, it's going to be extremely busy one, but first there's a lot of organisation and delegation and streamlining to do, plus some serious sorting out of "helpless" men who wander in off the factory floor wanting to know how to work the photocopier, despite being shown countless times.
As for the Other Harf, he's officially announced his resignation to his team (some of whom "broke down" at the news but I suspect some gross exaggeration on the OH's part here) and the rest of the company, fending off the very best efforts from his manager to intice him to stay on. He finishes at the end of May, and plans on having a bit of a break from the paid workforce.
Little does he know he's about to enter the unpaid workforce! A Everest-sized stockpile of firewood is gathering, waiting for the chop even as I type this...
Bwah-ha-hah!
A similar log pile is awaiting Simon tomorrow in France ... as you say "Bwah-ha-hah!"
Hooray for your new job! Hooray for your soon to be slavish laborer! Boo for the men who can't make a photocopy!