Just as for the past nine weeks, I'm sitting at the dining room table in front of my work laptop. Today, however, I'm wishing I could just close it and walk away and never have to open it again.
But what then?
Even if I did have the luxury of saying "that's enough" what would come next?
Maybe it's because we've come off the back of a long weekend and I always feel worse returning after extra time off, no matter how little extra that may be. Still, it illustrates just how little my job means to me: it's only a meal ticket.
I need to start doing something with my life that is fulfilling, something worthwhile.
That's a question I seem to ask myself a lot.
I want to write more. But what?
I want a new job, something that feels like it makes a difference while still paying the bills. But what?
The problem is I've never known, at least not beyond sweeping vagueries. I need something that helps define me, something that speaks to who I truly am - not just "blogger".