I’ve been out of sorts all day. Not least because I didn’t wake up until 6.15am but that’s just part of it because there had been at least three times during the night where I thought it WAS time to drag myself out of my pit. The effect to the daily routine got thusly knocked out of whack and then I realised that exactly a week ago, I was heading for the airport.
Now there are two things here that disturb me. While the memories are warm and fuzzy (and no, I haven’t peed myself) certain aspects of the days seem drawn out, like they’ll never end. Then I get home and “zip”, it’s time to go to work again. This is also indicative at weekends also. So why does valuable leisure time go in at least three times as fast as the grind? The older I get, the less I can get to grips with that. Really.
There's been a lot of information to process today. Some good and some a little devastating but it's not possible to unscramble eggs as I may have proclaimed before. So, I'm not sure whether I like the trailer for The Runaways movie plus I've been reading Kim Fowley's reaction to it. And there are messages to deal with so I'll get to what's getting posted tomorrow.
Five hours in the day prison then home and we'll figure what gives from there.
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