The Flux Incapacity

Nothing like an UberCommute to cure that ‘stir crazy’ blandness of too much work and not enough air. Got up at the usual Ugh o’clock this morning and did another London day. Not sure what it is these days, but one London day seems to pass at a ridiculous rate of knots – you turn around, look up and it’s done. I mean, I crammed it full of Stuff, but still – seemed to me I was still bitching about it being one o’clock when I looked again and it was three!

Of course, it’s entirely possible I just did an awful lot of bitching…That’s quite enough out of you lot, I can hear you making up your own jokes…

As for Disappearing…there’s something sick going on – I actually quite miss doing exercise. Will have to carve myself some time in the monolithic workload of tomorrow and do something. I’d love to kid myself I’ll be up with the lark (and, I’m reliably informed…the snail…honestly, it’s there in the poem that gives us the phrase “up with the lark” – it witters on about the “snail on the thorn”…though I can’t personally imagine a snail being particularly keen to go near thorns, can you? Nevertheless, it’s there, but somehow, nobody ever claims to be “up with the snail”, do they? I reckon it’s a con, personally, I reckon the lark just happens to shout its nasty little head off and get all the glory…Hmm…wonder if the lark is therefore supposed to be the early bird that catches the worm? And if so, why don’t we use “the early snail catches the whatever-the-fuck-it-is-that-snails-eat…” Never mind, I think I’ve just answered my own question…) – but frankly the likelihood of me struggling out of my pit before d goes off to work in the morning is of a smallness that would ensure even the earliest of birds (or the most energetic of snails), would miss it, try as they might…

The point, if there is one, is that Monday s feel bad for me. I don’t eat regularly or well, when I do eat, it’s likely to be bad stuff – rodeo burger, Paddington Station, under moderate stress as the board showed everything delayed or cancelled due to signal failure – and the train journey home turns the presumably-not-horsemeat burger into a queasy, roiling mass of unpleasantness that more than anything, I wish I could simply get rid of. And of course, despite climbing gamely into my walking boots this morning, from the moment I arrive in the office to the moment I leave, there’s but the blink of a couple of eyelids, so I have buggerall in the way of free time to go and walk, as I’d hoped to today with my pal Brenda.

And then, before I know what’s what, it’s Tuesday.

Hmm…wonder what Tuesday has in store…

Zhoom!
What the Hell was that? What day is it now?...