And on the Eighth Day...

she tried to catch her breath and take stock.

In the last eight days I have learned:

1. No matter what time I go to bed, 6am is too early. Unless I'm at a party, in which case it's actually quite late and I should go home.

2. Dublin 4 looks a lot like Ottawa, which should probably make me homesick but doesn't.

3. My cubicle is not a cubicle, it is a pod. Beam me up Scotty.

4. That your office is in an upscale neighbourhood and full of well-heeled professionals does not protect you from the theiving bastards who steal lunches from the communal fridge. Or ants in the lunchroom.

5. My kids won't die if I miss a school assembly. If it scars them for life, I can now afford to contribute to their therapy. In the meantime, I can assuage my guilt by purchasing their artwork from the school.

6. The week you start a new job in an environment you've never experienced before and begin commuting to unfamiliar territory is probably not the best time to agree to coordinate a superfluous event. With a committee. Of volunteers.

7. My accent is attractive to the Irish ear, even when they can see me.

8. Ireland is not the only beer-obsessed nation. See?