Friday, February 20, 2015

Away From the Daily Grind

I hadn't realised how much work has been stressing me out of late until I took today off.  Since going back to work after Christmas I've been feeling worse and worse: aches, pains, poor sleeping patterns and just a general feeling of uneasiness.  Every day I found it more difficult to find any motivation for getting out of bed and going into work.  Obviously, all of my recent problems with the leaking hot water cylinder pouring water through my kitchen ceiling and causing all sorts of damp problems at the back of my house didn't help either.  But despite resolving the cylinder problems last week, my feeling of being generally unwell and unhappy continued.  However, when I woke up this morning, knowing that I didn't have to go into work again until Monday, I found that all of my aches and pains had vanished and I actually felt happy and optimistic.  Which just reinforces my belief that work lies at the root of my current malaise.  After all, when you look back at the working week and realise that the highlight was talking to a cat I encountered, it should be obvious that something is wrong.

But I didn't just take today off to get away from work.  For one thing, it's my birthday tomorrow and, whilst I don't actually plan to do anything, I thought it might be nice if I didn't spend the day still feeling stressed out after a week of work - a day off would provide some insulation from the daily grind.  I also needed to do some cleaning up in my kitchen after all that water had poured into it from the ceiling - it all looks a bit cleaner and a lot tidier now.  That said, until the walls and ceiling dry out completely (which will take a few weeks) it's pointless attempting any redecoration (the whole room needs a thorough repaint, both walls and ceiling).  Changing the subject completely, as an addendum to yesterday's Eastenders-related post,  I was hoping that tonight's live episode would see Ian Beale have Bobby secretly committed to a private mental hospital in order to cover up the fact that he murdered his sister.  Then, in ten years time, on the soap's fortieth anniversary, Bobby could have broken out and returned to Walford, pursued by a gun-toting psychiatrist who looks like Donald Pleasance.  Masked figures lurking around Albert Square threatening a spate of serial killings would be just the cheery way to celebrate another milestone anniversary on the show's history. 

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