this is a blobfish. He doesn't like Sundays either)
Granted, it is a Sunday evening, and despite being freelance and Sundays not meaning the same as what they do to most people, I still find find them utterly irritating. Not because I have work tomorrow (for I had work today, so it's not too painful to just carry on working) but because the rest of the world has decided that on Sundays, EVERYTHING MUST CLOSE EARLY. And no one is working apart from me, so I have to wait EXTRA LONG to hear back from anyone. Which, for an incredibly impatient person like myself is a death sentence.
So I was already a little uncomfortable anyway. Not helped by the fact that my knee socks kept falling down and my slip kept riding up. The whole way into and back from Central London I was tugging at my clothes like something out of a Carry On film.
Then I spent all afternoon playing a woman in the depths of an emotional and psychological breakdown. Which meant accessing some not very nice feelings which are not that easy to shake off. (You know when an actor does a really realistic bit of acting where they are really, really sad? They are often actually making themselves feel those emotions, so don't take it to heart if they're a bit weird with you afterwards). I love love love acting and I love love love the particular part and speech I was doing today, but it's rough on the old emotions.
Which is probably why, when I arrived home, exhausted and vaguely tearstained, my nap gave way to a particularly horrific and intensely realistic dream (one of those ones that not only reminds you of heartbreak you'd been trying to ignore in a very visceral way, but also shows you things that shouldn't be shown in an 18 rated horror film because they were too shocking and then takes a big ol' crap on something you were very excited about? Yeah. One of those.)
'But this is fine!' Thought I. For today was the day I could be lenient with my diet! And I was going to watch films and eat Chinese food with my lovely housemate! That would cure my ills!
Not so. My poor housemate got back so late that the restaurant wouldn't deliver, and because it was Sunday and everything was closed, including the Asda up the road (again...grrr....) I ended up having a pathetic 'treat day' dinner of cous cous, pasta with slightly gone off pesto salad dressing, stale cheese and a sausage. Which was only a 'treat' because it was carby. Now I feel stodgy and I didn't particularly enjoy it. And have to wait another week for my next flexible diet day (I am a massive foodie so this is a very sad thing for me).
So I had a bath. Only, our hot water is rubbish and my 'luxurious hot bath' was actually a tepid bath, where the bubble bath didn't bubble properly and simply sat in a slick on top of the water like a natural disaster. The bath mat my mum got for us to stop me falling over like an old codger again has decided that whilst it doesn't like being removed from the bath, moving along the entire length of it is fine and dandy, so whenever I shifted I'd be flung halfway up the tub, and then, when I finally (grumpily) got into bed, my fitted sheet decided to do that irritating thing where one corner makes a bid for freedom. I was so cross that I didn't even fix it. I just lay on top of it and started this blog entry. The thing is, on a day where I was in a good mood, none of these things would have bothered me, in fact, I would have laughed gaily at them as I skipped past and not given them a second's thought. I think I'm just in a foul mood today. Luckily, I have realised that it's not the fault of anyone else, so I haven't been too whingey. (and then this blog entry happened...whoops...)
Ah well Reader. As Scarlett O'Hara so wisely says 'Tomorrow is another day!' Maybe I'll wake up on the right side of the bed when my alarm goes off!
Till then, I'll leave you with the vlog I released earlier today about things I think when I get drunk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7eCgcUNQJk
Sleep tight Reader! And have a marvellous tomorrow!