It's been a few months of working from home on Monday
so past the point I can call it in beta. Not sure if an alpha yet, you'll be the judge. When Chris
first came up with the idea during our staycation over Christmas, I was very much against it—how would the world not fall apart without me? What was the point? What could I do so different than during at day in the office? Well, he pointed out, I expect sometimes I'll come back home late in the evening and you'd still be in your bathrobe.
Ah, the bathrobe! We bought it in Habitat quite a few years back, on account of me falling in love with it like most women would fall in love with a pair of shoes. It was steeper, commercially, than a perfectly cozy robe from say, M&S, and not particularly design or whatnot. Will you wear it forever and ever, asked Chris, worried for my budget. Until it falls apart, I answered. Then, on days now past, of getting up at 5am to work with a client back in Romania, that robe became my best friend in the cold London flat. And when I put it on after a bath, I wouldn't easily remove it. Much like a second skin, one that has more than paid off since, unlike pairs of shiny shoes from that era, now mostly defunct. The bathrobe was here to stay, several times mended, and a staple in conversations, too, it appears.
So, yes, he was right on one account: on a Monday when the world does seem to fall apart without me, he's prone to find me in that robe. The moment I wake up, I put it on with the comfort of knowing it doesn't have to come off within minutes, and run a bath. When things go well, I soon after get in said bath, with my laptop, and get on with stuff while I soak. The house is quiet, the cozy robe awaits my return patiently, and I can take my coffee and breakfast in the spa, as well; the rules are gentle on the workaholic. On not so predictable Mondays, the bath gets cold, the salts laid on its bottom lay untouched, and the foam and fragrant oils of faraway lands get flushed out when another bath is drawn, and another, and another. Until the last one gets canceled with exhaustion, late at night, when dinner beckons.
But when it all comes together, every now and then, the day turns out rainbows. After a long soak and scrub, the robe comes back in the picture as I wait for my manicurist and pedicurist to show up. They can be a bit fickle, what with checking Skype and email all the time and pausing to pick up this and that other than my nails. Other tiresome woman business best kept away from prying eyes also gets conducted, meals are had more or less on ideal time, endless perfect coffees made and drunk, and the sun often joins the party, like a silent nod to glorious grooming. When I finally discard the robe, and engross myself in the next pile of paperwork for hours on end, it's with the feeling of having lived the last hours in baby swan tummy feathers, and a sensation of lightness in the body clad in comfortable, oft cheeky garments that otherwise don't get to see light of day.
It is a rather good spa, this one, when I can make an appointment. Located in Central London but tucked away from the hustle and bustle, it boasts a large terrace, expert stuff, soothing concoctions and expert techniques. It is delicate and private, mindful and considerate, all open for my enjoyment alone. The best thing yet? There is a chef popping in at lunch time to create the zingiest salads and refreshments on cue. I would recommend you, yet we'd have to be really close friends; there are no vacancies for guests at this point, but hey, I know the owner. The space and silence alone are to kill for; because when you happen to live together and run a small business together at once, you're literally mouth to mouth come rain, come shine.
So that's what a good Monday holds in store these days, me-time galore with a twist of reflection and breathing calmly, where working late into the evening comes with ease, if not abandon, for knowing some basics had been properly covered already. It still feels like there could be much more to do elsewhere, but in regaining space and a will to pamper oneself, quite the affordable luxury. Sorry about this old picture, the photographer was rather relaxed.