Thursday/Friday morning I had the message thingy with J, and I’m still kinda screwed by it. I flit from pissed off, to annoyed (same thing?) to feeling really low. You know? Like what the hell am I doing? What the hell is going on? How did it come to this. Everything was fine, at least I thought so, until a text message arrives followed by a week of silence. I can’t even do anything about it besides harass her Dad, and I really don’t want to do that because if anyone deserves a holiday it’s Saint Mike. I just wish I could talk to her, you know? I mean, I don’t even need to hear ‘every thing is going to be okay’ because it might not be, but I hate the uncertainty. Not knowing what is going on really gets up my nose. I might even have to start looking for somewhere else to live. Hell, that pisses me off. My relationship *could* be ending as we speak and I don’t even bloody know it. How’s that for a giant pile of bollocksy-wankiness?
Saturday was a truly exceptional day/night though. Things got messy. York started early, train at 11. Left early too though on account of engineering work but did not get to bed until about 2am Sunday morning. Following York I went into town. When Barry and Terry went home I met up with the chaps from work and proceeded to get drunker. If that is at all possible.
I remember someone trying to talk to me who I have a disliking for, but I can’t remember if I made the dislike obvious or not. I probably did, if I consider – well, if I consider it was me, but I’d like to think I had the nounce to be uncharacteristically diplomatic after 12 hours on the beer.
I guess the truth will out tomorrow when I drag my miserable arse to work for another day.
…I just hope there is nothing else that I need to find out from my exploits that evening. Because, sometimes, especially when I’m shitfaced, I can be a real shit. No, it’s true!
Sunday and Monday have kinda been frittered away on nothing. I’ve eaten junk and drank cola a lot. Now I’m one glass away from completing a bottle of wine.
But, do you know what? It’s okay to be a hermit misery drunk. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.
