A Year Of Celebrations

I was a little scared of 2016, for entirely superstitious reasons that make no sense. The worst two years of my life to date have been 1996 and 2006, during both of which I had brushes with death that were less like brushes and more like full-blown fights.

2015 was a good year, following an awful one in 2013 and a half-half one in 2014, so my brain naturally decided to tell me that this meant 2016 had to be completely awful. And the year did get off to a bit of a stressful start, it’s true. But over the past couple of days I’ve realised that I have a lot of causes for celebration this year.

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Has a whole week passed already?

This one’s whipped by in a happy frenzy of work-related productivity.

That’s not even sarcasm: I actually like my job. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. I spent so many years in an industry I actively disagreed with, doing a job I hated myself for, that I can barely believe I’m finally free of it and spending my days being paid to do things I enjoy.

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