Sure what's 45 days between friends?

It's now 45 days since I left work.

Jesus, that seems like a scarily long time ago.

*Goes back over to calendar.*

Ok, it's been 30 working days.

That's not much better.

Anyway, not a day - working or otherwise - has gone by that someone hasn't asked me what I'm planning to do or what I'm up to or what's next or have I applied for a job yet or would I not think about teaching.

The latter is Mam, apparantly refusing to give up on the dream of having one daughter on the wards (my sister's a nurse) and one in the classroom (yeh, I've been a huge disappointment since 2000 in that respect).

The truth is, I'm mostly just enjoying not having to travel up and down to work everyday, and playing with the dog, and doing house-y (but never housewife-y, got it?) things. The week before last, I painted the hall, stairs and landing, we got carpet on the stairs (I wanted a runner, but the dog likes to descend the steps hugging the wall and wasn't able to manage on the bare wood), landing and bedrooms, and Dad came down to give me a hand with getting lining paper up on the wall in the dining room. Last week, I finished painting the kitchen cupboards. Over the weekend, once Himself recovered from his Christmas party, we did a load of gardening.

Sure it's pure hectic around here.

When I initially decided to take the time off, my half-baked idea was to try and do some more writing. Apart from the occassional update here and my bit of work for Beaut.ie, that hasn't quite got off the ground yet.

Hmmm.

Maybe I should put that desk together...