Monday 2 March 2009
For what in theory should have been regarded as a bad night’s sleep surprisingly it sees me waking feeling refreshed and in a good position to face the week. For the longest time this morning I recall lying awake manipulating my dreams as I attempt to regain sleep and slumber. It really is the strangest feeling to be lucid and semi awake/conscious feeling able to influence my dreams as if an actor in some sick play.
When the alarm eventually sounds it is with regret but also relief that the beacon has called and Monday can begin. Today is the sunniest morning yet so far this year. Every positive has a negative though as the annoying ginger beard with the starched coat does not pay attention and pokes with it during the entire duration of our train journey. For almost an hour I just want to punch his pudgy red face in. Fortunately sat to my right is a polite guy who takes up hardly any room.
By the time the train reaches London the sun is out full beam and so are the sweats. Its almost beginning to feel futile wearing a coat to work. I let off a silent scream when I see my reflection but luckily it is just the window that is warped – I think. Today I feel huge and uncomfortable, fat and bloated beyond previous levels.
The general air of today is the relief that February is now history and over – it was a bad one. The day is jovial although nobody has any energy, although at least I am personally improved on last week in this department.
By the afternoon I find online retail therapy has almost reached £60 as I spend far too much in the waves of boredom. Credit crunch? What credit crunch?
The day takes a dip for the worse when office piss taking goes a step too far and subsequently sees the office in some kind of tense silence. As a result of this my boss must think this means we are hard at work as he comes in and lets us head home half an hour early.
Obviously if I ever get out of work early this is the cue for the trains to be fucked heading home, nullifying all the positive energy of such gestures. I just about get a seat on a snail’s paced train home where I settle down to watch an episode of In Treatment and one of Adam And Joe Go Tokyo. When I leisurely look over at the loser playing on his DS I notice he is playing FIFA 2009 as Colchester versus Millwall. Suddenly he doesn’t seem such a chump to me.
On the way home I pop into the olds’ apartment when I said I wouldn’t this evening. The problem is that I bump into dad walking Bobby and to not say “hello” would just be rude.
When I finally get home around 8.45 I really want to do and accomplish some stuff at home but I find myself just too exhausted to exert myself mentally or physically. I do manage to squeeze out some writing but it is laboured and nothing great (and I fear when read later on it will be disappointing). Basically the post 10PM thing hits me, beyond 10PM there is something about my psyche that tends to render me useless and closed/switched off.
Not long afterwards I fall asleep only to wake up to a Newsnight story about the deluge of local loan sharks appearing in the light of the credit crunch. The stories are pretty much the plot to Raining Stones.