I'm thinking of quitting my job and giving writing a go. Well, I can’t keep complaining about being made to go pointlessly into the office because The Midget needs to prove she has a big clit, all the while daydreaming about what I could be doing? Hey?
Eventually, I’ll just end up looking pathetic.
Do I already look pathetic? Big eyes.
It means a big scary change though. I’m used to being able to just accept my finances will be fine. What will happen if… I don’t know... will I be able to?... no idea.
Still, I can’t continue to hang onto something because I am scared to change it.
What does safe give you in the end? A slight empty feeling?
And you know they say it is not the things you do that you regret, it is the things you don’t do that people wish they could change.
And, you know, with the way the world is going, it may even be sensible to quit the day to day drudgery and enjoy what time we all have left.
In the office today. Yay. It’s kind of quiet with a public holiday tomorrow.
I’m guessing I’m not going to hear from David. I assume he has now gone in to full spoilt child meltdown over not getting his way the way he was carrying on yesterday. Oh? Um? Saturday.
Oh, I feel kind of tired thinking about it. There is only so much sympathy in the well for the “me, me, me, me, me! WHAT ABOUT ME!” kind of carryon.
Shrug. I guess, I'll have to contact him and reassure him that everything will be okay. Groan. Are we really 15 year olds? I ask you?
Anyway, tomorrow is a public holiday, let’s just think about that.
Ah! Grrrrr! The Midget has annual leave to day. And Boris is working from home.
9.30am. I pack up and go home.
9.50am. I've changed and signed back into work.
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