Suddenly I remember what it's like.
I feel like I've worked non-stop this year. The breaks I've had, a few days here and there, have been during times when I've not been able to fully switch off, when things have been too intense. During one such break, for a few days back in May, a friend noted afterwards that I really wasn't my usual self.
No, I suppose I wasn't my usual self - I was trying my best, but was already carrying a lot of shit around at that point, and bracing myself for more (it was a good job I did brace myself too).
This will be the first full week - ie Monday to Friday, bracketed by the weekend on either side, that I've been away from work this year.
I'm ready, and suddenly I remember what it's like.
What it's like in the remaining days before a holiday, when the prospect of winding down for a little while is so close, so tantalizingly close...but just another day or so to go.
What it's like to start to unravel a little, to fall apart a little, because one can actually allow that to happen. In the working week such an occurrence feels like dysfunction, whereas having the space to fall apart a little is actually a luxurious one (in this particular context).
I've one more day to go. I'm in that crossover point. Not quite there, but straining to be there.
Whatever happens during the working day tomorrow (and these days I'd be a fool to be surprised by any eventuality, no matter how seemingly unlikely), the working day will end in the late afternoon regardless, and then I'll be there.
Then I can fall apart, and I'm looking forward to being able to.
I think I'm ready.