The dogs and I got soaked in the rain today.
I've had six weeks off from work. Six weeks at home--not doing much. I've gloried in it. I've read books. I've done almost nothing. And I have very rarely gotten into the damned car and gone anywhere.
I love this home.
The rib is better. I could take a couple more weeks off, but the political situation at work probably means I should get back as quickly as possible. However, I have come to the point where if I never had to go back to the workaday world of psychiatric nursing, I wouldn't go. It isn't that I don't like what I do: I do.
It is more that I like it here. I like the smell of the wood stove. I like this solitude. I like my dog walks. I like spending time with this family. I wish I didn't have to leave.
But I do. Soon. It sucks.