4 days to The End.
The End of a state of bliss- of not having to worry about wearing a watch (in fact, where the heck is my wrist watch?!), of not having to set the alarm clock each night, of not having to iron work clothes or clean out my handbag... of not having to rush each morning, of not having to blowdry my hair or wear any makeup, of not having to cuss and swear at morning traffic and best of all, of not being obliged to answer/reply text/ return calls on my mobile (in fact, where IS my mobile?? oh here it is..)
The End spells The Beginning of all things maddening, rushing and nerve-wrecking.
In the meantime, I am weaning Sofia from breast to bottle. Dr Spock says to allow 2 weeks for the gradual weaning but time is not on our side, dear girl, as Mr Managing Director has asked Mummy to begin work 2 weeks earlier than scheduled.
Like a true unconverted, she gets offended when the bottle is popped into her mouth and will cry ever so lustily. Hrrrr... I wonder if I should work half days to begin with, something to ask The MD.