bloody holidays

summer holidays. i can’t work. i take short naps during the day, then i work in short bursts. there’s lunch, more or less together (- come to table! – in 10  minutes, i have to finish this fight/stage/raid!) then the world cup matches interrupt me. i try concentrating while just keeping an eye on the hottest efforts – try working with the background buzzzzzzzzzz of those fuckuzelas!

night used to be my salvation. a few hours of quiet and freshness, when my output was fantastic. now they’re gone, too. it’s 11 p.m. and there’s still fuss all around the office. then midnight, and preparations for going to bed just begin. doors banging. shower noises. some late snack (- close that fridge!). 1 a.m. they have finally shut down their computers, switched off the lights. ol’ podna comes next to me for a moment of quiet and a cigarette. it’s not yet bedtime for her – she’s searching god knows what on the internet. a ‘mom!’ call is still possible, or rather very probable. i’m behind my schedule. the clients are waiting, the blood pressure is high. nothing to do, nothing to reproach.

it’s the holidays. for everybody, except myself.

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