18:07, 07/11/2004

What's the point of Sundays?

You get up, feel a bit hungover, go back to bed for a while. Wake up again, force yourself to actually stay out of bed. Your partner, who drank less last night has gone out and doesn't come back all day. You look forward to making yourself some eggs, then discover that there are no eggs, so make do with some toast and a banana. Drink some water. Wash. Shit. Sit. Drink some more water. Have a Jasmine tea, and watch some Alan Partridge on the DVD, then already it's time to get some cold leftovers out of the fridge and pretend it's lunch. Then in a burst of largesse, you decide to hoover the flat, only to find that the hose attachment is sort of annoyingly semi-broken so you're hoovering at half suction and it takes twice a long and by the end of that, well, you're exhausted, so it's time for a little lie down, and you IM a bit with your friend Erika and she invites you to Myspace so that kills a bit of time, joining and fiddling with your profile and all that, except the Internet is being very flaky so even that's an effort, then it's dark already and you have a bath and fall asleep and nearly drown and get a gob full of lukewarm water for your pains. I ask you...