mondayitis

I know it's perverse but just as 6am is basically my favourite time of day, Monday is my favourite day of the week. It's a refresh and a restart. I essentially enjoy my job (in the way that I enjoy being alive - there are things about it that suck but seriously, on balance, it's great and not just because I am lucky to have a job in this climate). Also, on balance I think I am quite good at it - I maintain a balance, at any rate, so while I perhaps don't peak in any particular area (except getting published - even in that regard I don't peak in terms of publishing in A+ journals etc, which is part of a recognised rubric for people in my line of work, but at the same time, there aren't that many urban history/history journals that fit that measure anyway) I don't crash and burn in any either. Level hand on the tiller, you know, like Peter Costello I think used to boast of, maybe it wasn't him maybe it was some other a-grade fucknuckle. 

So today I have a list of things to do, most of which I will enjoy because they involve writing up research findings, and some of which are just banal ('cat food' - sorry cats). Also yeast because my bread making has been top notch lately, either because I am just lucky enough to have a great oven here or I've finally learnt how to do it right every time - ??? 

I did my usual monthly RRR stint this morning and the whole time I was talking my voice was echoing back in my ear. I don't know why this is so incredibly distracting but it is. You'd think you could block it out but there's something in your brain that stops it, I don't know whether it's the politeness gene (you can't get it out of your head that someone else is talking and you shouldn't be) or some kind of innate echo response like a bat would have. So I powered through at least as distracted by the sound of my own voice as I was by the internal monologue patting myself on the back for being such a fuckin' pro. PRO PRO PRO