This has been a strange month.
It began with school's two last deadlines, which I was glad to be rid of.
Then came our anniversary and our wonderful trip to Neuschwanstein — surely that was one of the best travel experiences we have had. Teriann's birthday, too, was fun, complete with a wacky weekend that included our first trips to the Borough Market (like nothing I've ever seen) and Harrod's (more malachite than southern Utah), and an unexpected run-in with hundreds of naked people riding bikes.
I was then hurled into full-time work at Lo-Max. It's good to have something steady, and while the income is much needed, it doesn't exactly leave me with loads of time for writing. In fact, I've done almost nothing compositionally in the last month or so — which is all the more disappointing because I was determined to work hard through June so that I could 'take July off' so to speak. As it is, I won't have very much time for writing in July, so that's valuable time wasted. I told myself this before I moved but it hasn't changed: work ethic is the biggest obstacle preventing me from moving up to the next level. Why haven't I listened to myself?
This has also been an extremely sad month: Joey died on Friday. There's no need to recount much here: either you have (or have had) a dog that you love(d) very much and you know how difficult their death can be — or you don't.
Overall, though, June has been a month of expectation. Waiting. Waiting to hear about funding for next year. Waiting to hear about whether my job will be able to keep me on next year (confound the credit crunch!). Most of all, waiting to see people from home: some of our closest friends are coming to visit for almost the entire month of July — a tantalising proposition when it's just around the corner.