Into The Wasteland

I've had a good day personally. Finally got the office to a state where I can see it working, with a little last-minute humanisation from d.
Followed that with a good happy sing at choir practice and now...here I am. Here we are, d and I together, enjoying a shared space and time.

I'm occasionally given to ponder the meaning of happiness. This is about as good as I can get - the pleasant, knowing, sharing of space and time and smiles and touches that say a world of things that merge the past, the now, and all a world of days to come.

Which makes tomorrow's UberCommute suck all the more than usual. Not only does it involve the usual Christ o'clock train journey, but it doesn't involve the evil-bastard commute back tomorrow night. Instead, I'm going to a book launch that isn't my own - always, and without exception the worst kind of book launches to attend, in my experience. That means I'll be too late to get a train home at all, and so am either staying over with my pal Sally-Anne, or staying at a B&B overnight. While of course there's no reason why a nearly-41-year-old man should bitch about the occasional viccisitudes of the his job, having so nice a time together makes it harder even than normal to leave in the morning, and harder still to make it an overnight.

Into the wasteleand with the Disappearing Man...