I am overwhelmed.
Not because I gave up coffee on Tuesday – well all but one, and that happens when I’m still in a coma at 5.30am because I’ve already been awake for half an hour.
Not because I have a 1 year old.
Or because I don’t have a job.
Or because we are rapidly outgrowing our very small one bedroom apartment.
Nor am I overwhelmed because Christmas is coming and we are not organised. At all.
Or because my ‘to-do’ list still has things on it from last year. Boring things, like deal with my green card and last year's tax so they’ll probably still be on there next year too.
I am not overwhelmed because we lost a cheque for $200.
Or because my baby is in the whinging faze and I really hope it ends fast.
No, none of those things overwhelm me as much as the fact that come Christmas Eve my husband will not have a job.
Which makes two of us, because I don’t have a job either.
My husband will not have a job because he gave notice.
He gave notice because we are going to open our own restaurant.
That’s right, you read correctly. We are going to open our own restaurant.
And that is why I am overwhelmed.
|This is definitely me while baking.|
So I am overwhelmed by brokers and investors and accountants and designers and business plans and grease traps and council requirements and handicapped toilets and leases and late night licenses and square metres and goodwill and landlords and lawyers and architects.
All on one coffee a day.
Let the adventure begin…