Fuck this.
You know me; I like to post something every day, even if it is drivel.
But we're now entering the stupidly busy season at work, so I can't post from here (at least not daily) and I still can't get a connection in the village good enough to even load a blog, so fuck it.
I'll try to post something at least once a week, but between here and the end of October - when things calm down at work - don't expect your daily dose of dross.
Of course, should my internet service provider actually provide an internet service, I will blog evenings and weekends, but that is considerably less likely that the world being overrun by winged space monkeys.
I'm also depressed, so don't be surprised if I shoot myself.
Fuckity fuck.
9 comments:
Must be the weather, mucking up the internet and you Dive. Just think of how much joy you will inspire by your creations at work. We bloggers can wait. Don't be depressed; we LOVE you.
Mme Benaut
Yeah... i don't buy it. All this oh work i haven't got the time, connection, it's all so busy blah blah.... you're just snuggled up with your honey aren't you ;)
Mme B. You are too kind.
And Lynn: I wish, but no.
Cheers, Kate.
Actually, I quite like it down here. It's kinda comforting.
Wish I had a gun, though.
Ah yep the depression wallow can be intoxicating. It is fun to be down on the whole world and mutter fuck you to old ladies in the supermarket line in front of you.
But eventually your going to look in the mirror and say i don't like me like this.
The ladder back up to happy and self satisfied is a slippery fucker, luckey for you none of us are about to let you slip, so climb the ladder when your ready and we'll be there with our hands up to help pull you out. xoxoxox
Thanks, Kate. Actually I tend to bounce. Euphoria or black depression; nothing in between.
But as you say, they're both addictive, so what the heck.
I miss you. Don't be gone too long.
I'll be here, Sassy; just not as often during the summer rush. I have nine buildings and extensions to look after this summer, with £15million of contracts. I do not need to fuck up.
Winston Churchill called his depressions his "black dogs."
Just give them a bone and hey...don't shoot them, yes?
One foot in front of the other.
And I didn't know you had a honey!
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