Friday. The first hints of winter approaching are nigh, and I remark about the apparent morning temperature reading of 3.6°. Hahahaha I am so naive. Jellyfish is under the blankets with me until I manage to drag myself out of bed, just recovering from my first cold virus of the year—funny that it hits me right after I start working again… ah, I love a good virus-spreading corporate building environment.
I head into the training room and think I’ll get a break to catch up on the last two days I’ve missed, but instead I’m thrown onto the phones with the rest of the training group for our first live calls. Terror and panic! This is on top of the shellshock I’m still working through after receiving my first payslip. And my mantra of “I did not move to Hobart for the money” begins…
This month’s anniversary goes by completely unnoticed. It’s such a dull day that this is the only photograph I take. Welcome to my fast slide into mundanity.
(If it makes you feel any better, the weekend is a little more interesting, as on Saturday I finally find a Vietnamese restaurant that will make me a rice noodle salad reminiscent of the glory of my old local in Brisbane, Quan Thanh. Then on Sunday I hang out with my new friend Helen; coincidentally we have mutual friends who we’re both very close to and we’ve even played the same bad guy in a pantomime in two consecutive years and people could probably mistake us for sisters and it’s really kind of confusing that we haven’t met until now but it’s great now that it’s happened.)