Glugg

A small part of my champagne cork/capsule collection just threw itself off my shelves.

… Life really is that slow. No, honestly, work is busy. I still work at the same place I have for… hmm, nine months? Maybe not long to those career-types out there, but I am a temp, body and soul. I refuse to sell out to one company above all others, so I cosset myself with the illusion of freedom, working for comnpanies, but not *for* them, if you catch my drift. Odd phrase. Anyway, this week has actually been rather hectic, with two staff members out of five (in our room) holidaying in the Mediterranean, albeit at opposite ends (Cyprus and Mallorca, since you ask). But the overriding sensation, after tiredness, for several weeks now, has been boredom.

Not "I have nothing to do" boredom. Rather, "I cannot feel enthusiastic about anything" boredom. A kind of self-inflicted boredom where in the presence of many fruitful and otherwise enjoyable activities – dvd-watching, reading, writing, painting, organising my life (this covers not-so enjoyable stuff such as cleaning)  – none seems at all inviting, and one ends up sinking into wide-eyed lethargy. Even sleep has not come easy for this somnophile.

So, the weekend does not enthrall me, even though I have waited all week for it. Shame, really.

The things I really want to do are forbidden. Lack of money and a feeling of ugliness prevent me from shopping and eating respectively. All I can do is eke out my remaining wine collection, which is all red, but for a lone half-bottle of 2002 Suduiraut. I want bubbles! I want crisp, refreshing dry whites! I don’t want to be poor any longer!