Working mum

I spent my first day back in an office yesterday. It didn’t kill me. Although the discovery of a Diet Coke machine in the staff kitchen might. It’s crammed with budget-priced $1.40 cans, all calling my name. I had such good intentions, I even took a box of peppermint tea bags and a mug to work.

The city was a strange, smelly, over-crowded place. So many shoving people and stinky cigarettes. Fantastic window shopping though. A pair of Le Coq Sportif sneakers are tormenting me already. They have satin ribbons for laces! I can’t decide between the silver, the black or the aubergine. If aubergine wasn’t so impractical, it would totally win.

Then there’s the small problem of a maxed out credit card …

The morning was spent re-establishing all my old connections: phone extension, email address, tax file number to the pay office, superannuation number to the pay office, bank account details to the pay office. You’d think after spending 20 years at an organisation everything would still be on file, but no, I’d been completely erased.

Well, not entirely. The moment my email address went live again, the press releases started rolling in from the PR agencies who never got around to taking me off their lists, so at least I felt a bit connected.

The afternoon was spent getting my head around the job and sending emails to old colleagues entitled “I’m baaaaaack” and proposing lunch dates.

Meanwhile, Husband stayed home to deal with a case of pink-eye, collect a free bunny pen from a school mum with a recently departed furry friend, return an overdue Oovie, do school pick-up, gymnastics drop-off, trumpet lessons and dinner.

Typing those details almost makes me feel grateful to have a paying job.

Almost.

Let’s not talk about work. Let’s talk about shoes. Are you lusting after any at the moment? Please send pics. I need cheering up.