I’m by no means a workaholic, in fact those who have worked with me or supervised me might describe me as having a casual work ethic. Or the more direct of them might describe me as lazy. The original relocation plan called for me to take a few months off after we got Down Under to get my footing, relax, spend time with my son and other idyllic pursuits while Dr. O’C got back to work. In theory.

What I’ve come to realize in the couple of weeks we’ve been here is that I am a creature of habit. I spent the last few weeks (OK, months) of my job in Oxford looking forward to the time of leisure and meditative wandering. What I didn’t realize is that without the routines granted by a full-time job I would find myself more lost than languid, more confused than centered and more stressed than serene. Without an alarm clock bleating in my ear every morning I find it difficult to remember what day of the week, even what month of the year, it is on a daily basis. And without a regular paycheck, I’m finding it difficult to avoid regular panic attacks.

So, my time of leisure and relaxation has become more of a sentence than a reward and I have officially begun the job search in earnest. It’s been a long time since I hit the streets as one of the ranks of the unemployed. But here’s hoping, for the sake of my sanity, that it’s quick and relatively painless.

Anyone reading from South Australia who needs an out of work geneticist?

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