grump

I am being a right grumpy cow and think it must indicate a need to get out of the house. Houmous and breadsticks, pleasurable though they may be, are not having the desired cheering effect...

I don't know why I am grumpy, I have done lots of work today. Lots and lots of reading. I have also come to the realisation that, vile though it may be to be here on my todd for days on end, I cannot go to cornwall for Easter. DB said earlier that he thought he may not be able to go and ahhh! The relief! I felt so pleased at the prospect of not going that it kind of made me realise that I should just stay here. I would have seven extra days to work in, which means that each day now needn't be hellishly long or a punishment; just days. And it means I could go to the pub tonight and wail into my cider about something and nothing, but not feel guilty about it. Time off = guilty, time on = bored senseless = *great* life. Woo. Rather not, thank you.

Yeah, I will stay here for Easter then. Drown my lonely, workaholic sorrows (workaholic?! ah to feel that way again! I wonder if I will - or will just constantly feel like I am not doing enough as the Fear ratchets up...) in chocolate. I am still working tonight, will finish about 6.45 and get ready to go out (i.e. get dressed properly, out of the comfortable clown clothes that were my normal wardrobe before going to India and losing 10lbs) and then hopefully go and be naughty and feel more a-cheered. Am not going to get drunk though, oh no. And otherwise my choices are a) sit in the kitchen or upstairs on my own, minus tv or friends all night while DB watches dull shouty football in the nice cosy living room; or b) spend the night on my own totally as DB will go to the gym to watch the footie, and I will feel guilty for kicking him out just to watch tv I don't even want to watch (some toff spraffing about chocolate). Bah. So, pub it is. Yay!

Somehow I have managed to get ahead of my work plan so I can relax a bit and carry on my reading with some breathing space. Reading when you are stressed and against the clock - especially brand new philosophy - is really, *really* hard. How can you concentrate when all you think about is how completely up against it you are, berating yourself for being such a rubbish worker while thinking of how organised and sensible all your colleagues probably are - and continuing to be rubbish because you have just been thinking these thoughts instead of doing any work? Well, somehow I did and now it is ok. Only OK though and I have no intention to make it less than ok again, which is why I am not allowed to go and play in Cornwall.

Tomorrow: more reading. What a surprise! Kerazy.

x J