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After a long vacation, it takes an hour of breathing exercises and about 30 mins of streching to finally get yourself to lay your hands on the keyboard. I am mentally and physically rusty to take on any task. My fingers need to be reminded that they are each independent souls for typing. After two months of serious collaborating for holding bears and swimming, shipping the pinky alone to push P can be very stressfull for the poor little one. (OK, now I am just trying to show off saying I type with 10 fingers, but frankly, if my hand was a crew team, my pinky would be the person at the end of the boat who just sits there when everybody else is rowing)

I am a different person since the last time I wrote here: I gave up my soul for a position in a bank (which is where I am writing from in recovery of my soul), put on a few kilos from this summer's partying and ended up quitting alcohol, tea and coffee because my stomach could not take it anymore.

Between the stapler and the hole-puncher, I am debating whether I should have taken the offer to do a friend's farm's landscaping in New Zeland in exchange for free accomodation and food. Sometimes I really suck at decision-making.