The Op
Every so often you hear parents say that they wish they could have just a little mild illness, enough to warrant an absence from work, but not so serious that you feel really rubbish and, whisper it, can't enjoy your time off. That's another thing gone with the pandemic. Now time at home off work is not too different to time working from home. Yesterday I had some of my meniscus removed, the flappy, damaged part that was in the way of fun things like turning around and, who knew it, breaststroke. This has necessitated a pause in the physical work of packing the house up for the x/y. Amongst the things that can be done horizontally, is writing a blog. Which is good because there was a real danger that we would skip from "we're taking a year off" to "we're off work for a year" without any of the packing, painting, fixing, contracting, moving, admining, organising, purging, whining, whinging and drinking that is involved in moving out of your home...