I don’t know why. Maybe it makes it feel like you’re making progress on something. Have made a large dent in the rubbish left in the loft at mum’s house, and we’ve kind of carried it on at our end. The amount of stuff we’ve had stuffed in every cupboard is amazing. . . We’ve probably thinned it down by about ten large boxes worth and it’s another trip to the recycling centre on the weekend. . . .
How very exciting, I know.
But still, it really does feel like the place is tidier. Gives us space to collect all new stuff that can hang around forever.
Things are more or less back to normal at work. Parts of the team are in a death spiral of too much work and not enough people, and the leadership couldn’t care less. I’m trying to quietly distance myself from that part of the work; it’s not really my job anymore and the closer I am, the more my personal reputation gets trashed.
Office politics, you have to love it. . . . Or not.
I’m going to go with not. And llamas. Always llamas.
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