I have a feeling that this is going to be one of Those Weeks.
They come along every now and then with the sole purpose of proving that life can be a bitch.
I started yesterday full of good intentions. Everything went reasonably well for the first five minutes and then God flushed the toilet and my week really began.
There is nothing definable about Those weeks. It’s not as if everything goes wrong. It’s just that nothing seems to go right. Yesterday, my head was buzzing with ideas for The Book, so I sat with my laptop, and do you think any words would come? Not a fucking chance. I fell asleep instead, and woke later with a fucking headache. That’s when I knew it was one of Those Weeks.
Today, I decided to prove to myself that it was a normal week after all. As soon as I looked out the window, I realised that was a lost cause. It is grey. It is cold. It is windy and it is raining. In fact it is just the kind of weather I hate the most. It is the kind of day that is half tolerable if you can sleep through it, but after all the sleep I had yesterday there is fat chance of that today.
I just know I am not going to get anything done today. If i do try and do anything I will make a mess of it, so it’s better not to start.
There is only one thing for it.
Out with the bottle of whiskey.