Tuesday

My eyes hurt. My neck hurts. I feel tired.

The weather has turned wet and cold.

Is the weather making me feel bad? Ha ha.

And it's Tuesday. Only Tuesday. Just Tuesday. I have another day to go before my weekend starts. As I told you the other day, one of the guys at work told me I was the cleverest member of the team only working 3 days.  Cleverest? Luckiest? (Sam thinks I should work full time) But, you know, I worked hard for my previous law firm, the one I refer to as the black law firm and in the end I got shit on by them, driven, mentally unbalanced corporate types being what they are, and I decided never again, life is too short. Actually, I left there with the intensions of becoming a full time writer, so all things considered, I don’t think I am clever at all. Still failing at life, is what I often think about myself, still not pursuing my dreams.

Anyway, this week seems as slow as slow as slow. As slow a wet week, is that the expression, which it is turning into, I see, as I watch the rain fall form the sky. 

Apparently, that is an Australian expression, slow as a wet week.

Apparently, American has slow as molasses. It doesn't really have the same ring to it, now does it. The two 'ws' in wet week, gives it much more of a zing.

When I have sore eyes, which seems to be happening a lot lately – when I had my eyes tested last, the optometrist said my eyes were really dry. Yay, great, I thought. She told me to use eye drops. I do. They help a bit – I don't feel much like writing. It's annoying. That small amount of pain takes away any inspiration that I have. 

Oh shit! If I have sore eyes for the rest of my life? It won't be good.

I went and put eye drops in and Otto jumped up on me and I nearly took out an eye with the eye drops bottle. He looked so pleased with himself standing there on the couch next to me. It’s always play time with a puppy.

And my atrium filled with plants is in the middle of a fungus gnat outbreak so there are little black bugs flying all about the house. 

Big exhale.

If it's not one thing...

The two bulldogs snore at my feet.

I might just sign out of work and go and lie on the couch, you know, with the back of my hand lying across my forehead. I don't think anyone at work would notice. Not now, most likely. I have answered all their annoying questions for the day. They usually all come in the first part of the day.  That's not the attitude, Christian. Hah, hah, who cares.

I put on BB King and forget about everything else.