The sun is shining, birds are singing in the trees, and there’s a distant sound of traffic. I’ve not driven to work in an age and I am not missing the queuing or the faff of finding a parking place.
I am, dare I say?, really getting into this home working gig. The sightly later start, actually getting a lunch hour*, looking out into the garden, and having time with the Ever Lovely Mrs J is rather nice.
I am so far coping with the lack of dressing, although I am missing meeting up with T friends at Chams. This week’s online meeting was a no show as others had a lot on. Still, maybe next week will be busier. Fingers crossed.
Last year, I wrote about putting on your big girl pants. A phrase used by colleagues with a knowing nod of loving irony. Perhaps there are times when I should look back at my posts and find what I’ve been through previously.
I’ll get to the point 🙂 I am currently doing a job that I am loving. I don’t just mean the home working, but I am running a team (not as a manager but as equals) and I am soooo in my element. I look forward to my work and it inspires me. Given some stinkers in the past, it feels good to do something you are passionate about. Not only that, but we’ve had some amazing feedback from colleagues and some very senior people. I say ‘we’ because it’s about us, not just me.
My issue is that I am worried it will end. That come late summer, I will be back to writing guff and being part of the problem: not the solution. Part of me wants to know things will continue, and yet I dare not ask because I feel a tall shadow approaching.
Just maybe, I need to reach for the metaphorical big girl pants and go see the big boss.