All bad things must come to an end.
Oct. 2nd, 2003 09:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thessalianYesterday ended on a not-so-bad note, if you ignore:
* the Chelsea match last night. I had to walk past the grounds about an hour before the match started and nearly got ploughed into the ground by blue-clad football yobs. And let's not talk about what Fulham Broadway station looked like...
* The rain. Well, I don't mind rain, but I do mind when it causes a 10 minute delay in the trains.
* The burglar alarm in the house over the road (I think the same one with the loud parties) blaring when I got in.
* The nasty suspicion that he's still not talking to me.
There were good things, though. The water was back on, at least. I had my dinner and a big glass of red wine (I don't usually drink in the week but I thought I deserved one after the day I'd had) and some last-minute code-hack. Then to bed.
But God, I did not want to get up this morning. I sure as hell didn't want to come into work. Not because I mind work per se (fine, I do, but I acknowledge how necessary it is to keep food on the table). It's just that in an hour and a half, I have to go talk to the doctor-lady about my bloody hands. I don't know what I'd rather -- being told that I'm a hypochondriac and that there's nothing wrong with me, or being told that there is something wrong with me and all my fears are at least rational and justified. It could go either way.
I'd cross my fingers, but doing that hurts. Anyone volunteer to do it for me?
Thess
* the Chelsea match last night. I had to walk past the grounds about an hour before the match started and nearly got ploughed into the ground by blue-clad football yobs. And let's not talk about what Fulham Broadway station looked like...
* The rain. Well, I don't mind rain, but I do mind when it causes a 10 minute delay in the trains.
* The burglar alarm in the house over the road (I think the same one with the loud parties) blaring when I got in.
* The nasty suspicion that he's still not talking to me.
There were good things, though. The water was back on, at least. I had my dinner and a big glass of red wine (I don't usually drink in the week but I thought I deserved one after the day I'd had) and some last-minute code-hack. Then to bed.
But God, I did not want to get up this morning. I sure as hell didn't want to come into work. Not because I mind work per se (fine, I do, but I acknowledge how necessary it is to keep food on the table). It's just that in an hour and a half, I have to go talk to the doctor-lady about my bloody hands. I don't know what I'd rather -- being told that I'm a hypochondriac and that there's nothing wrong with me, or being told that there is something wrong with me and all my fears are at least rational and justified. It could go either way.
I'd cross my fingers, but doing that hurts. Anyone volunteer to do it for me?
Thess
*crosses fingers*
Date: 2003-10-02 01:55 am (UTC)Good luck in there!
- Nakianade(sp)
(sp)
Date: 2003-10-02 02:58 am (UTC)*smooch*
Arigato.