I’m not depressed.
Just in bad form.
I’m in one of those moods where I would get great pleasure in throwing rocks at someone or something. I could throw rocks at passing cars I suppose, but I don’t have a convenient pile of ammunition near the road. I daren’t listen to the radio as I would probably fling it through a [closed] window. I think Herself detected this somehow so she’s listening on earphones. The dulcet tones of Joe Duffy would probably drive me to do something that would land me in an institution somewhere.
I should be happy at the talk of removing pandanic restrictions, but I frankly don’t care. Unless they remove everything by midnight and pass a law banning any further mention of pandemics, viruses, face-masks, covids or any of the shit I’ve had to listen to for the last two years then I’m not interested. I see people are already panicking at the thoughts of freedom from restrictions – they just won’t feel safe! I would say to such people they should just stay at home then if they are so fucking scared and let the rest of us live a normal life.
I’m probably just tired. Last night was another broken night so I am a shade sleep-deprived.
Actually, heaving rocks sounds a bit energetic. Maybe I would just like a wee sleep. Not too long.
About twenty four hours should do it.