Irritated.

 Couldn’t sleep last night, woke up around 4:30am this morning (a slight improvement on yesterday’s 4am).  Decided there wasn’t much point going back to sleep when I had my alarm set for 5am, so I got myself organised to leave for the airport.  The drive was fine, the longest part is getting from my house to civilisation – it’s only a short trip out of town.
 
As I drove into the airport I commenced a panic attack.  It’s three weeks today since M left and it just came rushing back.  It’s a different airport, so I’m not sure what it was, I suppose it was just the whole process. Checking in, waiting for a flight, letting the plane take you away.  I missed the turn for long stay parking, so had to do a loop of the airport, one hand pressed against my mouth to stop me hyperventilating, crying, losing concentration.  it was awful. 
 
Once I got there and checked in I calmed down a little.  Went and sat in the lounge and messed around on Facebook.  Drank a coffee which then made me need to pee every 5 minutes.  
 
My flight was uneventful, save for being sharply aware of how irritating I find other humans.  The woman next to me had her jacket draped over the arm rest between our seats, I didn’t want to sit on it or really have it touch me, so I was all scooched over to one side (I was on the aisle).  Then, because every fucker is too cheap to pay to check their bags, I had people shuffling around looking for spare overhead storage.  One asshole nearly dropped his suitcase on my head twice.  A woman one row over and one row up was arguing with the stewardess about whether she did or didn’t have to put her bag overhead.  In the end it was placed a few rows back in the overhead, and of course the bitch had to go and get it before the plane even landed, crashing past everyone in the aisle seats (including me) before flopping down in her seat and sighing like the world was so injust.  I got stuck behind the same bitch towing her bag towards the arrival gate.  The fucking thing had wheels yet she still managed to tip it over at least three times.  If you can’t drive a suitcase on wheels, I have no idea how you get through life.
 
Dad and Shirley met me out the front (Shirley is my step-mother).  We drove home and dropped my stuff off before going for yum cha for lunch.  It was amazingly good and I wanted to eat more, but I had had enough and so had they, so we called it a day.  It will do me good anyway, I have been eating too much lately.
 
Dad and I went fishing after lunch.  Didn’t catch anything, but it was still good fun.  We might go again the day after tomorrow.
 
Now we’re home, and I am desperate for a nap.  I won’t, though.  I need to sleep through the night tonight, so I want to totally tire myself out.  
 
I’m annoyed with M, who hasn’t turned up online for a third day.  He’s been tweeting a tiny bit, so I know he’s around.  I just think it’s really selfish.  Whatever.  He will have his reasons, whether or not I agree with them or think they are fair.  
 
So here I am.  Usually as soon as I go anywhere, particularly overnight, I immediately wish I was at home.  I thought about it earlier today and realised that I don’t really care to go home.  What is there for me?  A completely impractical house, a mother who drives me batty and an idiot brother and his moronic, whingeing dog.  At least here I have my own bathroom, the shower has a full screen, instead of a foot long bit of glass that does nothing but channel the water from the shower directly onto the floor, and here I am RELAXING.  
 
I should try and end on a positive, and there are positives, but all I want to make note of today is that it is 3 weeks today since M left, and I have survived thus far.  It means 3 weeks apart that I have completed, 3 weeks closer to being back together, and hopefully not too many more weeks until I can be over there with him.  I am hoping for 8 to 10 weeks, but of course, I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch.