Well the maid is home so I should be pleased right? Except that I do regret giving back my space in the kitchen. My new knife, so springy and responsive in my hand, will now be hers. My new grill pan will be hers to use. My system of cleaning the dining table will now take one step back. I have to get used to relinquishing control over domestic space.

Why give up, you may argue, since I am her boss and the lady of the house after all? But I know too well that when you work and you are out of the house for any amount of time, you have to let go. If I have to keep my hold on the nitty-gritty in the house and still keep my mind on stuff happening in the office, and keep tabs of the kids' lives, I know something will give. Likely, it will just be me going loco loco.

I don't think I am cut out to be superwoman. So much as I like the state of my knives and the organisation of my larder and my fridge, I will give it all back to the maid and go back to work. It starts tomorrow and already as if in transition, my mind drifts in the wee hours of the morning to pending issues at work, dreading the inevitable sandstorm of emails that I will be buried under and the headaches accompanying a major upcoming event that I am in charge of.

As if the make the transition even harder, its as if part of me is still floating in the turquoise waters of Tioman. Perhaps it takes the soul a little longer to reach home. I'm still out there slowly drifting my way back to reality.