Where is Pandora?

I'm sitting her in a t-shirt that reads, "The beatings will continue until morale improves." It has a pirate skull and crossbones on it. My hair is tied up in a ponytail. The heart rate monitor sits comfortably under my bra, but the watch part is sitting on the windowsill, looking out over a lovely Melbourne Winter Day. The cat is asleep in the middle of my unmade bed. A waft of lemon grass oil is coming from the bathroom - lemon grass - a brilliant fungicide  - better than  bleach for cutting through mould - not that there is much - in the bathroom. I'm thinking about turfing everything out of my bedroom and rearranging the furniture - I do that once a year.

And I look at the do to list:

• Get some exercise
• Sort the Elks Property Commission books
• Get a few more pages into "Fifty Shades of Grey" and not laugh at the appalling writing
• Hoover
• Go see Blarney and the boys and the Maow Maow
• Iron
• Get everything ready for the week
• Think about what else can go on Ebay

Stupid thing is, I'd rather curl up in bed with the iPad and the cat and watch the last season of Mad Men again.

I am exhausted.

My last post I was telling you about the "Man Flu" as the Plastic Mancunian calls it I was suffering from last week. I asked Jonella about this - did I indeed have "Man Flu'? Her response was in the negative. I was really sick - it wasn't Man Flu. The antibiotics have now run their course, the snot is receding, but by 8.30 p.m., I'm ready for bed. And I haven't been to the gym since last Thursday - over a week ago.

My gut reaction to the new job is proving accurate. I've been there three days and I reckon I'm going to be really happy there - but this is not to say that in the last three days of work I've worked harder and smarter than I've done in the last couple of years. Hit the ground running is a bit of an understatement. Hit the ground and expect to do a sub-three-hour marathon is more like it. The work is interesting, the people are lovely but I've been given a large task to sort and deliver on in a very short time frame. I get in, turn on the computer, grab a bottle of water and sit there until lunch, plotting, scanning and generally getting on with the job at hand. A catch up with the project manager at the end of Friday had her suitably impressed. I rather surprised myself - as I was telling my Instructional Design mentor. I can't remember ever having to take the helm like this before.

Hopefully Sparks and Ladders will do me well.

Somewhat later:

I'm looking at the list above. It's 11.30 p.m. Where did the day go?

The only exercise done was walking around the shopping centre on the way to get supplies. This laziness ends tomorrow.

Blarney and the boys got a visit. Did not see the Maow Maow. Allegedly he's in hiding as Blarney is making him wear a coat due to a skin condition. The coat is allegedly pink and is supposed to be worn by toy poodles. Poor lamb must feel very emasculated.

Mother and sister have been called. A trip to Adelaide for the City to Bay has been arranged.

The ironing is done. A load of washing got done too.

The Elks books are done. I got some help. See...

The Elks books took me the better part of the evening, but they are done now. Thank goodness. Whoever thought I'd be a good treasurer was mad. Sure, I've worked in banks - but I work in IT now. This was an exercise in revisiting my past. Reminded me of my time at Merrill Lynch reconciling corporate actions.  I think I should book in a session with my counsellor to debrief - I forgot how much I hate ticking back accounts.

A few pages of the diabolical "Fifty Shades of Grey" got read late afternoon. It's like Twilight with bondage but without the vampires. This is not a good thing. There are so many writers who do decent women's erotica - Justine Esstler, Tobsha Lerner to name a few - this is just Mills and Boon with cable ties. Dear me.

I've played a few rounds of "Kill the Moose" with the cat - this involves throwing a catnip-infused Hessian mouse around the place. The cat goes after these things with the fervour of a teenager at a One Direction concert. Watched her go head first into the walls every so often. It's a joy to watch. She loves to play.

My clothes are set out for tomorrow morning, my bag packed and the alarm set for 6.15 a.m.

I'm officially back in the rat race.

Now I really have to plan the time to write.