I felt rough when I went to bed last night. I had a rather restless night, the dogs had a rather restless night, and having eventually nodded off I was woken at half past two by a spamming text message about an order which was to be “deliveyed” (!), and then at half past five the bin men again woke me as they “quietly” came crashing and shouting up the street.
I made toast, and watched the first episode of the new series of “Motherland”, then sparked up my lap-top. Four friends were having birthdays this morning so I sent out messages, then peered into the internet to see what I had missed overnight.
Ivor Biggun has announced a new album which will be released soon. I shall certainly be getting that. And after that revelation, all of the trivia that fills the morning on social media palled into insignificance.
I thought about phoning in sick, but I wasn’t really sick this morning; I was just suffering from a combination of feeling “bleaugh” and not being arsed. I get that some mornings; it usually passes. I got ready for work and set off.
Before driving off I fetched our bin from where the bin men had tossed it. That was one less bin for everyone to slalom round as they made their way up and down the street. Would it cause the bin men physical pain to have a care about what they do with the green bins? You can regularly see young mothers pushing push chairs up the road on Fridays as the pavements are impassable once they've finished.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were interviewing the woman who had found a meteorite on her driveway. Apparently the thing missed the guinea pig cage by inches (for which I suppose the guinea pig was grateful), and she has now donated the bits of it to the Natural History Museum (presumably the bits of the meteorite which broke up on impact, not bits of the guinea pig cage). When asked if she'd kept any of the bits she said she hadn't, but the Natural History Museum had sent her a photograph of all of the bits, and she was just pleased to have seen something "which was older than the universe".
Those interviewing her weren't openly taking the piss, but some people just don't come over very well on the radio.
I got to work where the day went a tad better than yesterday, even if I did spend much of it farting like a thing possessed.
During the afternoon tea break my phone beeped. I had a friend request on Facebook from Guerini Khadimat who invited me to join Whatsapp sex group 00864. Presumably there are (at least) eight hundred and sixty-three other Whatsapp sex groups? I squealed her up to the Facebook feds. I bet they do nothing about her porn-mongering. They never do…
I came home and spent most of the evening asleep in front of the telly… Perhaps I should have phoned in sick today.
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