So then, due to medication withdrawal I awoke at 7am, walked about in my knickers, ate a mandarin, the fruit that is, not a government busybody. (Though thinking about it, cannibalism of bureaucrats might cut down on red tape…) Made myself a big cup of coffee. Columbian ground coffee, easy drinking, not too strong.
Logged onto Facebook to engage in another pointless ‘debate’ with unthinking bleeding heart lefties about the merits of UKIP. That no they aren’t, as far as I can tell, inherently racist, homophobic or misogynistic as a political party. No that loon who said the floods were God smiting this land for gay marriage didn’t speak for UKIP etc. Got annoyed with myself for bothering to engage in such a futile attempt to bridge the insurmountable logical divide.
Had a nice long bath, brushed my hair, got dressed, took a leisurely stroll to my therapist where I babbled all my troubles away, can’t even remember what we talked about. Miniature horse breeding I think. Walked to my Doctor, no they couldn’t give me two days worth of medication to last me until I see the nurse on Wednesday.
Trudged back towards Tesco in the glorious sunshine. Logged into the Starbucks Wifi from outside and registered my Subway loyalty card. That took a good fifteen minutes. Gave my home email address. Need to reply to email to activate card. Paid for an Italian B.M.T. foot long sub I could have gotten for free if I’d submitted my hotmail address. Ate. Was roused from deep cogitations on the middle east peace process (or lack thereof) by the arrival of the most annoying twerp in history, left promptly.
Marvelled in stunned triple take at the truly heartrending beauty of at least four women who passed by. Did my food shopping. Trudged back home carrying a backpack far far heavier than expected. Was nearly sick on getting back into my flat… Subway aftertaste. Checked the final scores of the NFL championship games. Brocos vs Seahawks superbowl. Was filled with the urge to blog but was clearly far too tired to actually think of something to say.
What will happen tomorrow? Will the rising sense of horror regarding the general state of my flat finally prompt an attempt at housework? Will I drink all the booze? Will Israel and the Palestinian authority grasp this great opportunity for a peace settlement, or will they never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity? Will my pill withdrawal result in the mother of all psychological declines? Will my man flu clear up? Will I give up my futile addiction to attempting to change the world via Facebook debate and take up miniature horse breeding? All this and more, tomorrow. Maybe.
ps, if you read this, I apologise from the bottom of my heart, if its any consolation I wasted more of my life writing it than you did reading it.