The working day


Whether in lockdown or not, my working day at home doesn’t change much.

I start at about 8.30. As I would if I was in the office, I check out my emails and messages to start with, replying and following-up as needs be. That eases me into the day, though there’s every possibility that I’ll be contacted through Teams at any point.

When I’ve done that, generally I’ll check out the status of any service desk tickets outstanding, and the new one’s coming in. That’s less of a focus these days, but I’m still responsible for making sure any digital-related tickets raised by the business get looked after.

The guys are pretty good, and I rarely need to get involved. Generally, they’ll pick up the tickets as they come in and handle them. Mostly, I’m just checking that everything is up to date and the priorities are being looked after. Occasionally I’ll post a question to one of the guys, or ask someone to look at something. Sometimes, I’ll have to forward a ticket to someone else or go back to the caller seeking clarification or giving instructions.

Then there are meetings, which are every day and occasionally all the time. Every day, there’s a stand-up at 10.15 where disparate members from different teams tune in and give updates on what’s going on. I won’t say I hate these meetings, but I find them a waste of time mostly. It’s rare the activities of others have any effect on what I’m doing, and for me, I’m letting people know what’s going on from good manners.

Not that my manners are exemplary. Occasionally, I’ll skip this meeting. Other times, though I seem to be one of the central figures in these stand-ups, I’ll opt to listen in without contributing anything. That’s because so often what I say today will be the same as what I said yesterday, and very similar to what I say tomorrow. Mostly I do contribute, however, though rarely with great detail – that would only confuse them as I’m left field for most. Often I’ll throw in some wit, just to prove I’m not a drone.

Today, I had an earlier meeting at 9.30. This is a weekly meeting with one of the app developers checking in on what’s happening and reviewing current issues.

At 10.30 today I made a cup of tea, as I do most mornings, then I caught up with my immediate manager updating him in detail on the POC project that’s kicking off. I’m pretty candid with him, and he knows there’s a chance I’ll be heading off. We discussed contingencies and back-ups. Almost certainly the POC would be canned or postponed, which would be a big thing for the business.

I checked in with a few others after that by Teams, following up on random issues and updates.

As I do most mornings, I then left to walk up to the local shops. Today it was simple. I went to the supermarket and bought a few groceries, then headed back. Yesterday I stopped off for a flat white on the way back. Today I didn’t bother.

Back at home, I put the TV on in the background and tuned into the daily Covid press conference. I don’t do that much these days – I don’t have the stomach for the journo’s – this was just a change. I glanced at it occasionally and might stop for a moment, but it’s in a separate room from my desk. After a few minutes, I put it on mute and made a call to the vendor I work with.

I spoke to him for about 15 minutes discussing minor issues and getting updates. After catching up with a few little things, I killed some time knowing there was a steering committee meeting at 12.30. I updated the notes for that, only to get an update at 12.20 that the meeting was being put-off until tomorrow.

Today, I decided I would have dinner for lunch – that is, the main meal at lunchtime and something lighter for dinner. I reheated last nights cumin beef with rice and sat down to eat that. The tennis was on the TV, muted. I sat there listening to an audiobook, which I continued to listen to after I finished eating. Audiobooks are a big part of my daily routine, just to break it up a bit.

Back at my desk, I interacted with a few more on Teams, checked emails, etc. Yesterday I had back-to-back meetings about this time, first, with the other vendor conducting the POC. Then another meeting – a stand-up – with the team, which we have every second day. I’m much more involved in this because it’s our stuff. That went for about 30 mins.

Today, I have no more meetings, which is unusual, and a blessing as well, but it’s only the case because another of the POC meetings – workshops really – was cancelled. There’s another meeting I’ve opted not to attend because it barely relates to me and I don’t think I can contribute anything. And it’s 2 hours, which is way too long for an online meeting.

I sat down before and read a couple of chapters of a new book after making myself a coffee. Sometime in the next hour, I’ll give Rigby his daily walk. After 4, I’ll mix a drink – half the time these days, it’s non-alcoholic. By this time I’m wrapping up loose ends and hoping nothing big pops up. I’ll ask questions and answer others. I’ll check in to make sure everything is on track. I’ll begin to plan the next day, though I generally know the meetings I’ll be attending.

Often, I would get dinner started between 4.30 and 5, backwards and forwards from my desk. That won’t happen today. Generally, I’ll finish up at about 5.15, though often I’ll go back and respond to late emails or queries. I’m connected by phone as well, so I always know what’s going on. As I prepare dinner, I’ll listen to my audiobook through my Sonos until dinner is served, and the evening stretches out in front of me.

Last drinks


A couple of hours ago I got an SMS from Cheeseboy asking if I wanted to catch up for a drink tonight. Sure, I said, of course. About five minutes later the news came through that Victoria would be going back into lockdown from midnight tonight.

It was not unexpected. The rumours were swirling this morning that lockdown was imminent. A few cases have escaped hotel quarantine in the last week, and because they’re of the more dangerous UK variant, it’s something that needs to be stopped. The result is a five-day lockdown, which is hopefully sufficient, but probably necessary.

I have to say I’m weary of it all, though the lockdown doesn’t worry me too much. Five days is manageable, and we’ve done it all before. The hardest part will be wearing a mask outdoors again. I weary of the cycle, of it never going away completely and more so, sick of the inevitable narrative and general idiocy that follows it.

I would guess that most Victorians accept this. We’re well seasoned by now and fearful of the virus getting out and about again. We’ll do what we have to do and be grateful when it does the trick.

Not everyone feels the same, and generally, they’re the loudest. I can barely stomach it. Much of it is just plain stupid and ill-informed. Some of it is bigoted and extreme. Some just like to grizzle, and quite a few have a sense of entitlement that disgusts me.

I’ve learned not to argue because sense makes no difference to someone with notions set in stone and others either unwilling or incapable of an intelligent assessment. That doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally rap someone on the nose, but it’s no more than futile sport.

It means that I’ll probably avoid the more populist news services and, if I’m smart, much of social media. It’s hard enough dealing with covid itself and the danger it represents, as well as lockdown, without having to deal with the level of malevolent stupid out there.

On a more concrete level, I’m bloody annoyed that while most of the world is well along with vaccinating their population, not one Australian as yet has got the jab. The reality is that as long as we keep bringing in infected people that it will keep getting out here and there, no matter how diligent we are and how tight our protocols. This virus is hard to kill and keeps mutating, making it more difficult to contain – especially in hotels not designed for that purpose. We can minimise, but we can’t prevent, not without a vaccine.

All it takes to start with is for quarantine workers to be vaccinated to greatly reduce the chances of the virus being spread to the public. We could have been doing that a month ago had the government been on top of it. As it is, it’s now out, and we’re still a week or two from the first person being vaccinated. Even then, the roll-out will be much slower than it should be.

Realistically, we’re many months away from being safe, though maybe we can begin to mitigate the spread sooner. For me, I can’t expect to get the jab until May, and I’m in one of the higher priority groupings. In the meantime, we can only hope the virus doesn’t jump the shark and become something different again.

Tonight, I’ll go out for a wine with Cheeseboy. Tomorrow I’ll walk with him, with mask back on.

New year, but…


I guess the news here is that Covid is back in Victoria. Not a great surprise, even after 61 days being free from it. It came from Sydney, where the outbreak has been awfully mismanaged – though unmanaged might be a better descriptor. It was almost inevitable, especially at this time of year, that the virus would make it’s way over the border and infect us once again.

There’s a lot of cranky Victorians today. Most of their anger is directed at Gladys, who has failed to mandate mask-wearing in Sydney as the outbreak continued to spread. Her communication has been unclear and wishy-washy, and often at odds with itself. Watching from this side of the border, Melburnians have been wringing their hands and exhorting them to make mask-wearing compulsory, and tighten restrictions – even lockdown. (They haven’t because of brand management, I suspect, and because Gladys is too weak to stand up to the PM – I feel sure that NSW is following his directives.)

Too late for that now, though had the NSW government acted with more certitude sooner I suspect this would all be over by now. As it is, it’s out in the community and spreading across the nation. Borders are closing again, naturally, and restrictions tightening.

So far, there are eight reported cases of community infection in Victoria. The source is a returned traveller from Sydney, and it caught hold in a Thai restaurant only a few kilometres from where I live – and about eighty metres from where I had dinner last night, in Black Rock.

All this had an impact on New Years eve plans. I wasn’t planning a big one anyway, but after the news yesterday there was no way I was going to attend a crowded bar or pub, as was the plan for later in the night. As it was, we had a good dinner, returned to someones home for a drink, and I left a little after 11 – I was in bed with the light off at 11.35. So much for the new year.

I’m hardly upset by that. I don’t feel obliged to celebrate just because of the date. Today will be an easy day.

It’s common to reflect at the start of a new year, and there’s more to reflect on now than most years. I have no resolutions but for general intentions. My biggest priority is to get myself healthy, physically and mentally.

Physically, it’s a worry. There are two issues. Firstly, sleep. I used to an Olympic standard sleeper, but it’s gone way off over the last 6-9 months. I hoped this break would help, but it hasn’t. I stay longer in bed, but I sleep no better, and oftentimes, my sleep is diabolical. It leaves me weary all the time and generally lethargic. I don’t know what to do.

More concerning is my digestion or metabolism or whatever it is. I reported a while back at how bloated I was feeling – well, nothing has improved. If anything, it’s got worse. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling, as most of you will know. It’s got so bad that every time I eat it ratchets up as if I’ve just consumed a big three course meal.

Imagine that – the feeling you have after a big Christmas dinner perhaps, unbuttoning your pants to ease the strain and finding a good seat to vegetate in undisturbed while your meal is digested. That’s okay, you’ve earned that, and it’s only a few days a year you get to feel it – except, for me, I feel it every time I eat now. It’s as if my stomach has reduced to the size of a walnut and everything fills me up.

I churn and brew. It makes sleep even more difficult, and everything else problematic. Basically, it means that I’m eating less – averaging one meal a day, with perhaps nibbles in between. It mitigates the frequency but doesn’t fix the problem. And, perversely, I’ve ballooned.

I’ve wondered if it was particular foods that did it, but there seems no pattern. I stuck to proteins, and had the problem, then went off them, and it continued. It might seem frivolous, but it takes the edge off every activity I do. I’m short of energy and the will to do anything much. Altogether, I feel worn down.

I’ll get on top of it, but I’m just not sure how. I made some poached eggs for breakfast, and my intention now is to fast until tomorrow. It’s a shot in the dark, but my doctor is away, so it’s all I’ve got right now.

In the meantime, it’s 2021. I’ll make other plans, whenever…

Re-alignment


On the way back from the shops earlier, I stopped by the local cafe to get a take-away coffee. As I paid for it I told them to charge another one to me and to gift a coffee to someone deserving of it, their choice.

I’ve never done that before, but it felt like something I needed to do today. It’s quietly therapeutic to give, and good for the soul in general, I reckon. It’s underrated, but after a tough year, it feels entirely appropriate.

I’m better today than yesterday, though a long way short of being just right. I still feel vaguely nauseous, and still feel vaguely tired. I figure the nausea will go away in due course, but the tiredness won’t unless I do something about it.

As I’ve said before, I reckon as much of it is psychological as it is physical. I spent ah hour in bed last night thinking about it. I felt in a bind, but at the same time felt as if I’d reached a point that there was no possibility that the old ways could work for me. I’m not who I used to be and I have to adapt to who I am now – but there’s the bind.

I suspect many are feeling some variation of that after the year we’ve had. I spoke to Donna yesterday and she reported much the same as I did. She’s intelligent, vivacious and a high-achiever, but it was months since she’d felt motivated, she said, and had little interest in what she was doing. I’d said that I no longer had the will to do the things I did before, and she leapt on that – yes, the will was gone.

For me, that’s a hard one to swallow. As much as anything, I defined myself by my willpower. I would make things happen. I was a man of steel and iron will. I would persist, I would defy, I would prevail. It came to me quite naturally, without effort. I think many still see me as that man, but I’m not anymore. I’m still determined, I still have some attitude, but I don’t have the hunger anymore, nor the belief, and certainly not the purpose. The will to be more and do more has lapsed.

That’s a hard one for the ego, but perhaps it comes with age and a certain maturity? I don’t know – this is the first time for me. Perhaps it is part of a re-adjustment that most of us have to make at some stage?

The challenge for me, and for Donna, and for all I know, for countless others, is managing that adjustment – and knowing what we’re adjusting to. If the will is gone, and the hunger and desire that drove you before, then what takes their place? There has to be something else if the old things and old ways no longer work for you. What are those things? What feels that hole?

With lockdown passing and a return to the office next year imminent, perhaps this little crisis will pass. I expect that’ll be the case for many. They’ll just slot back into the old groove and be grateful that it’s so easy.

I doubt that’ll be the case for me. I’m a more complex dude, and I’m at the stage of my life where these junctures are significant. To be honest, I don’t really want to go back to how it was. It feels false now. Inauthentic. And I guess that’s the proof that I am a different person now.

I don’t have the answers. I never do. I’m worn-down and impatient and just a little sad, but I can’t push it. It’s something I need to negotiate my way through. Get my strength back first, mental and physical, and then figure out what I’m meant to be doing.

A new year is an apt occasion to re-align, thought I don’t think it’ll be anywhere near as easy as that.

Bone tired


Woke up this morning feeling crook in the stomach and, rather than soldiering through it – as you tend to do working from home – I decided to stay in bed. I sent a message to that effect, expecting I’d be up and about and back at my desk by lunchtime. And in fact, late morning I attended a meeting I couldn’t afford to miss and sent an email while it was fresh in me, and gave a few general prods.

At that point, I expected I was back. I was weary though, and then it hit me hard – not the crook tummy, but the exhaustion, like a tonne of bricks coming down on me. I think it was mental at that stage. I’d decided to let go and found myself overwhelmed with weariness, to the point that I could barely do more than stagger, and my eyes were like lead. Bone-tired.

It’s no surprise I’m in a bad way. I’ve been sleeping poorly for months. On top of that, there’ve been the challenges of lockdown, most of which are psychological. I haven’t felt up and about for ages it seems, and felt ‘off’ generally for a while, and probably half the time before that through lockdown. And I’m getting older.

I saw a specialist on Tuesday – not for anything serious. It was more a check-up and to inquire about some nagging things. Nothing serious came out of it, though I’m booked in to visit every fortnight over the next couple of months. More than anything, I came away with the sense of getting older and the inevitable physical decline that comes with that. I was warned by the doctor that if I didn’t watch certain things, the consequences might be a bit ugly – but for now, under control. It was pretty depressing.

I’m up again now after going back to bed. I feel tired, but I have a reluctance to give in to it. Part of that is stubbornness, but I also worry that if I lay down, I’ll find it hard to get up again. I feel on the cusp of – what? – not collapse, but…regression. I’m fucked, but thankfully there’s only a week to go.

Then there are bigger things to worry about.

Mask free


For the first time in months, I went outside yesterday without wearing a mask. I’ve heard others comment that it felt as if they went about naked. I didn’t feel that, but it was odd and quite liberating.

The routine of wearing a mask became ingrained quickly. There were missteps along the way – everyone has a story about how they’ve gone out forgetting to wear their mask – but generally, it became habitual before leaving the house – wallet, keys, phone and yes, the mask.

Dogs are very observant beasts and slaves to ritual. It got so that every time I put on my mask, Rigby would get excited because it meant I was going outside. Now that’s changed/

The requirement to wear a mask out in the open was eased at 12.01 am on Sunday night. You have to carry your mask with you and must still wear it when in an enclosed place, or where the crowd makes physical distancing difficult. But walking the dog, I no longer need it, nor walking to the shops.

Things have opened up more generally since the weekend. It’s not back to normal, but you wouldn’t really notice the difference through the course of a typical day. The restrictions are at the margins now, and by degree, rather than front and centre as they were for so long.

I’ll say it again: that we have made it to this point is a testament to the good sense of people of this state and the leadership that held firm to scientific principles.

While the pandemic ravages much of Europe and the states, peaking further each day; and while it re-asserts itself in places where it had become dormant, such as Japan, we in Australia can look forward to a safe and relatively healthy Christmas, touch wood. We have been lucky on many counts, but we have also worked hard – and here, in Victoria, we fought it back.

The war is not won, but there are now several promising vaccines being tested. By the first quarter next year some, at least, should be released for use.

We need to survive till then. I’m confident we can do it in Oz. But in other places, I wonder how many more must die until that salvation comes?

The reverse Samson


Probably the second biggest news over the weekend (maybe the third if you factor in the Wallabies beating the All-Blacks) was my haircut on Saturday morning.

Man, did I need it! Cheeseboy, always blunt, said I looked like a paedo. My hairdresser, at the sight of me, said I looked homeless. And even I had become reluctant to go out in public. My hair had become so thick and unruly – and dry – that there was no styling of it and no chance of controlling it.

I did a bit of market research ahead of my cut about what I should do. The women in my life all said I should try and keep some length and look to have it styled more. The blokes were indifferent.

I checked my hairdresser, and we agreed that he had a fair canvas to work with and that let’s try and retain some length while taking it in at the sides. And that’s what we did, though it’s a bit different to anything I’ve had before.

The result is that I look about 15 years younger and no longer a menace to society. I was starting to feel pretty ugly, but now I’m back to being pretty presentable.

As I left the hairdresser, I could see my shorn locks on the floor. There was a fair amount there – about 7 months worth of growth, leaving a couple of months of it on my scone.

I’ve been wistful in the past about losing so much hair, but I felt liberated by it this time. Donate it to charity, I suggested to them, or perhaps to Advance Hair Studios for some poor, balding chump to make use of.

Me, I’m back!

Donuts


We got the news yesterday we’ve been waiting for for so long. As of tonight, at midnight, retail re-opens and cafes, bars and restaurants begin to accept customers again. It’s not a full-blown opening, but it’s a big start on the way back.

I think for most Victorians it was an emotional moment. The premier, as he announced it, appeared moved by the occasion. You could understand. For about 110 days straight he’s fronted the media to provide updates, bad and good, and through most of that has been assailed by an obstreperous media and a federal government that has betrayed its constituency and undermined the community effort. This was a relief for all of us, but for him, it must seem a vindication of sorts and a reward for holding the line so steadfastly.

It was like all this time we held our breath, through thick and thin, denying ourselves and staying true to the restrictions, until yesterday we let out a collective breath when the news came through.

This is a great achievement. For two days running now, we’ve had zero new cases. A couple of months back it was over 700 daily, the same rate as other countries. They’ve gone through the roof since with new cases in the multiple tens of thousands daily, and we’ve gone the other way – donuts.

There’s a lot to be thankful for and much reason to be proud. Gratitude to each other is not out of place. But – and here’s the thing – it’s tinged with some bitterness. It seems a common sentiment.

Many individual Australians across the country have offered their support and strength through our journey, but it’s been absent from the federal government and a large swathe of the media. Then there are the ratbags doing the wrong thing and the snipers happy to take potshots along the way while the rest of us do the hard yards.

Until you’ve experienced it, you can’t understand what it feels like when you’re doing your best to get by from one day to the next while others, on the sideline, cast aspersions and seek distraction. And those who use it for political advantage are the very worst. It’s a sense of being undermined and disregarded.

That will linger for a while, and there are some I’ll never trust now. I’ve never felt more Victorian, and I think the community has strengthened having endured this. The cunts can please themselves.

We have a way to go, but it looks like we’re heading back towards a semblance of normality by Christmas.

Conversation and affection


I was watching TV last night when on-screen a conversation about William Blake took place, and immediately I felt a yearning. I want to talk about William Blake. And Goethe too, and Beethoven and Kierkegaard and Kandinsky and Einstein and David Lean and about expressionism and the civil rights movement and forms of government and great moments in history and thought and ever fucking so on.

At that moment, there was a sudden realisation of how everything is so small. It’s hardly a new thought, but it’s fresher now because without the distractions and white noise of so-called normal life what is exposed in lockdown are the skeletal forms of everyday life. And the truth of it is, so much of it is repetitive and mindless ritual, time served until it runs out.

That’s a bleak take on things, and it’s not all that bad, especially not when you plug in the lifestyle elements – the distractions and white noise – that otherwise obscure the bare realities. That’s not all bad stuff, but not a lot of it has substance.

You could argue that I’ve been wrestling with these concepts most of my adult life. I felt it inside, but for much of that time, I was removed from it in a personal sense, because I found the distractions necessary to keep me going. Some remain – reading and good food and provocative cinema. Others have gone by the wayside, the obvious, and possibly most critical, being international travel. Once it fueled, perhaps erroneously, my sense of identity. I would travel every year and go deep – but now I haven’t travelled anywhere for about seven years.

For others, it’s family, and that’s something of true substance and value. I imagine it fills up most of the empty spaces and as for identity, then you assume traditional and well-defined roles as partner and parent. All that is ritual too, but it has meaning.

Then there’s work. For the healthy of us, work is a subset of who we are, rather than a definition of it. It’s rare, however, that work doesn’t play some part in how we see ourselves. Given we spend so much time in the job, it would be surprising if it wasn’t a factor, but it also is one of the great distractors.

This has played on my mind for the last few years, and last night it was the first thing that came to me when I considered how small things have become. It wasn’t always the case. I took a lot from work and career in general, and I worked through that in my mind as I sat on the couch last night.

I like to define and categorise things. I like things to have their place, though I know full well that life is not nearly as neat and tidy as that, and that nonsense and absurdity – as well as chance and caprice – play a big part in how our lives play out. Nonetheless…

I was always very ambitious, very driven. I’ve noted all this before so you can take it as read. I wanted to move forward, if for no other reason that I wanted to test myself and to feel the rush of wind in my hair. That’s not the case anymore.

I sat there and defined it, separating out the strands in terms of ego, which plays a huge part in all of this. It’s the fire that burns in us, but if we don’t ply it with fuel it dies down. This is what has happened to me.

I separated ego into two strands, the structural and the tactical, though they might be better understood as the professional and the personal.

The structural/professional is how you see yourself in relation to others within a work environment. It’s a broader, longer journey. There’s a ladder and you want to climb it. You plot and strive, imagining yourself achieving higher professional goals and attaining ever-greater rewards. It’s competitive in the sense of how driven you are to surpass your professional rivals. It’s about recognition and your place in the world. Sense of self and sheer prestige are wrapped up in this also.

The tactical/personal is more everyday, moment to moment. It’s how you react and respond to challenges and stimuli on a personal level. It’s how ego interplays in your direct relationships with others, strangers, as well as friends and loved ones. How much we are prepared to set aside, and how much we feel the need to assert.

I was always ‘strong’ – if that’s the term – in both of these. Now, it seems, I have little real interest in the structural/professional. It’s no more than habit and knee jerk reaction. I think in my mind that this is what I should be or do, but it’s the residue of former times when it throbbed of its own accord.

I was so directed then, though to be fair, while I was competitive, I never really saw others as my rivals. I always thought I was better. I applied myself to surpassing the job itself. My interest in that now is no more than theoretical – I’ve done it before, I know I can do it again, I feel no need to prove it because, when it comes down to it, I have no real interest in it anymore.

I think the tactical/personal ego is just as strong as ever, and it plays a part in how people see me. I guess much of it becomes your persona. It’s problematic in some ways. I think most people see me as very capable. They believe I’m confident, and I’m certainly more assertive than average. I speak and act with a level of authority, and so the natural assumption is that I’m made for bigger things, and that’s what I want. I wonder, though. In myself, the private me, I have grave doubts about much of this. I’m coming to the point where I think I should just let go.

Without the professional ego raging in me I have no burning desire to achieve outside of the very practical need to set myself up for retirement, if possible. There’s none of me in it anymore and it leaves a big gap.

My sole motivations these days, outside the practical, are to do the best I can because there’s meaning in effort and competence; and, related really, to provide fair value for reward.

That second gives me some leeway because for a long time now they’ve been getting more out of me than I get from them. The solution has always been to match the rewards to effort, but perhaps what’s now more consistent with what I feel is that I reduce my effort to match reward.

I’m not sure if I can dial down so easily. It’s not as if I set my effort to a value – I just give everything I have. By giving everything I have though leaves little left for me. And in a time when I’m conscious of a lack, I probably need to set myself to gain/regain what I don’t have – which means making space for it.

I have a meeting with my manager this afternoon where I intend on following up on the discussions we had weeks ago about my future. If he tells me that yes, here it is, I’ll probably accept it. But if that’s not the case, as I expect, I’m mulling over telling him that I’m going to dial things back. Basically, expect less of me.

Given the mental health challenges of recent times, this might be the most sensible thing I could do: I need to take a break from the job for myself. And, if I can, need to find those things that warm me inside and give meaning to what I do. Conversation and affection are much of it, and a place in the world.

Rough days


Today is a rough day. It’s been coming on for the last few days. It’s what it’s like in these times. A few good days, a few indifferent days, a few bad days.

There probably is something merely cyclical to it, a propensity, or vulnerability after every so long. That’s how it was before. In this case, it’s been hurried on by circumstances.

I’m a very busy man at work. I’ve commented on that before. I feel pretty stretched thin at times, and at times I feel as if things don’t let up then I’ll end up burnt out. I give myself until Christmas when thankfully I have a break.

I’m on a bunch of projects and some of them high profile. I’m doing most of the work because, as I’ve mentioned before, it becomes easier to do it yourself than it is to wait for someone else to do it. There’s one project, particularly which is tricky and complex and there’s pressure from on high to get it on. I have to report up to the board regularly.

I don’t have complete control over the project because the build itself must be done by our vendor partner, who is very unreliable, both in terms of responsiveness and the quality of their work. To be fair, they’re just as stretched thin as we are.

For me, it’s frustrating because I can never get any traction. They’re slow to get things done and then it’s wrong anyway. There’s a great sense of powerlessness when you’re busier than is healthy and yet you must wait for others to respond and do their thing. And all the while the work piles up and the logjam grows.

On Friday it came to a head when we came to test the latest version and found it greatly lacking. I just want this behind me so I can move onto the next thing and have one less thing to worry about. Instead, I must go back to the vendor with the issues documented in detail, including the to-be, and, hopefully, come up with solutions.

At the same time, I have to manage the expectations upstream of me. I don’t want to rush anything into production that isn’t right, but I’m mindful of how much is riding on this. Then there’s the program of work this is holding up. And there’s a question in the back of my mind, why are we spending so much time on this when we seem certain to deploy a replacement application early next year?

To compound all this, I have no cut-out. There’s no-one I can turn to assist in any meaningful way and no-one who has the knowledge to provide another opinion of merit. It’s all on me.

I was exasperated on Friday, and the general fatigue that’s been present for a while closed in on me. I had an uncomfortable experience on Friday night and for most of the weekend felt wasted. It was certainly a physical sense, but also very much a mental thing.

That’s a big part of the problem with working from home these days – you’re always in your workplace. My home was my sanctuary before. I could leave my problems in the office and retreat to the secure environs of my home. Now that there’s never any variation – never any office time, not even any social time out – it feels as if my home has become infected by my work.

I’ve turned up to ‘work’ again today and done all the things I needed to do, including sending an email upstream flagging the problems we have, and potential consequences. I’ve touched base with the vendor, written documentation, sent emails, kept busy.

I’m buggered, though. I can easily see myself needing a break, and I guess it’s lucky there’s a couple of public holidays in the offing. What I really need is a proper break, as in a change of scenery: me, and everyone else.

I’ll pull it all together; I’ll manage a way through – because I always do. Doesn’t feel a healthy way to be, though.

Just as an aside, I mentioned a week or so ago how I felt a disconnect between the man who does the work and the man writing these words. I had a dream the other day. In it, I was with a friend, and we were waiting for someone else to join us. When he didn’t arrive, we went out searching for him. It was midway through the search that I realised that the man we were searching for was me! But here I was! Wasn’t I?

It was a curious dream and a curious feeling. What do they call that? Dis-association?