I have accepted that I am an inherently unhappy person. I can well imagine my body being cremated and my soul that’s drifting out of my body thinking that the logs in the fire could have been chopped more evenly.

The past year has been rather hectic at work. There have been some regular readers on this blog who have been witness to several posts on my being overworked and my incessant complaints about the same. (I apologise for all the grumbling I have done and will continue doing in the future.)

I gave my lifestyle a lot of thought during my month-long trip to Europe and realised that there was much more I wanted to do in my life. I had promised to myself then that there would be changes I would make the moment I got back.

When I got back, things were already a little different. The first quarter of the financial year and the amount of work to be done had automatically reduced. And thus, ever since I have come back I leave for home on time. Basically, I have no work. And I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it! It makes me lazier and more lethargic. I have stopped blogging. I have not even blogged about my Europe trip that I was so excited about. Imagine that.

I need something to do. Anything. I need a muse.