I open the door.

Take off my waistcoat, my tie, unbutton my shirt. The physical shedding of the worker’s uniform triggers the emotional shedding of the worker’s mindset.

Open iTunes. The sweet sound of Jeff Buckley’s voice flows through the speakers.

Break out the Phish Food. All too soon it’s gone. Sad face.

A brisk shower to wash out the incredible amount of hair wax and spray required to keep my slippery blonde mane in a tight bun. (That’s not too mention the pins, clips and hair ties.)

I can then dry off and change into a blue polka dot dress.

Green eyeliner. Because why not.

Two squirts of perfume; it doesn’t matter that no-one else is around, I know I smell good.

And I’m back to being me.


Arty filter free.



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