No matter how many years at the grindstone one has under the belt, no one, it seems, is impervious to those insidious tentacles of the back-to-work January blues. There’s the pit of despair at having to set an alarm again, the anxiety of feeling as though you’ve completely forgotten how to do your job after ten days of merriment — my cursor was blinking on an empty page for a while writing this article — and that grim, first commute back on a Baltic Monday morning.
