Bloody Hell

Yesterday sucked copiously. I woke up absurdly tired, to the point where after having my usual quadruple latté and morning shower, the two of which generally get me going on even a few hours sleep, I fell back to sleep without meaning to. I didn't even bother taking my glasses off. I just passed out. I forced myself back to consciousness and set about to finishing an outstanding project for one of my old clients. Everyone else in the house was in a foul mood for various reasons so part of me was as pleased as not to be sequestered in the basement. But I ended up feeling guilty that Ivana, who is ill had to deal with the kids on her own (they are invariably in foul moods after a day with their deadbeat sperm-doner - which is another issue: it occurred to me today that he sees about as much of them as I do because I'm too busy knocking myself out to support them while he does nothing but screw with their heads, mess up their diets, and foul up their schedules). I wanted to go to the club and say "hi" to people I haven't seen in weeks but I didn't. In the end I barely had the energy to hammer out an e-mail to my client to tell him the work was done and watch a bit of "Batman" before passing out for the night.

This morning I woke up feeling just as crappy as yesterday. Getting out of bed was a challenge to say the least. I forgot to put the damn garbage out.

My only consolation is that it has been my experience in the past that weeks that start out crappy tend to end well.