As usual, I find myself wanting to start my post with references to others.... Congratulations, Liz and Christina! You and me both, Susanna! And sympathies and respect, Julie.
As for me... life's been pretty busy here. It's an overused complaint, but it's not exaggerating to say that life consists of up at six, off to work, no breaks, no lunch (except that eaten in the car on the way to another meeting), home at seven, cook, eat, DIY, housework, household admin, bed. Rinse. Repeat. Apart from the weekends, where it's up at six, housework and DIY and household admin, bed at ten.
All the above being carried under the stress and emotional strain of wholesale reorganisation/redundancies at work - my job no longer exists, I will be applying for new ones in the coming weeks - and a Big Thing (but a very, very good one) happening at home.
I'm not complaining! It is what it is, and it's mostly right and proper. What's fascinating me is my reaction to it.
In the midst of this, two things are happening. I'm scribble-writing more than I have for years, and I have one significant craving. It's not for someone else to do dinner, it's not for a hot bath, or a massage, or an afternoon off (although all of these would be nice), it's for guilt-free time to curl up with a book.
I'm not even sure which book. Just me, comfy chair, no phones, no internet, a book and an hour or so.
And the fact that, because of that Big Thing, there is little prospect of that happening in the short, medium or long term future is making me grin like a loon.