Item – H and I are now going away for a long weekend. I’ll be back on Monday night. I’ve been looking forward to this. B&B! Someone else cooking me breakfast! Trees! Hills! (Rain! Mud! Ohh, hush).
Item – My period is due on Monday. And this cycle, I have refused to play symptom-watch. You can’t make me. I’m not listening I’m not listening la la la. So Monday, Day of Reckoning, into which I Sail Blind. Excellent. Am taking every drug and sanitary protection product I possess.
Item – The therapist I so plaintively emailed on Monday night has not got back to me. OK, so she may be on holiday herself, but otherwise, by and large, fuck that, and I try the next person on the shortlist. I still want to give therapy a go. I still feel miserable as shit, you see. (Seriously. It’s Thursday. I emailed on MONDAY. She has PARAGRAPHS about swift responses to emails and phonecalls on her website. I snort thereat, I snort with sarcasm).
Item – H is nagging me because I haven’t packed yet. Excuse me. I must just go and bite his head off.