Dry it is then. Day 3.

 

SDC10509

On the third day God woke early with a smile. ‘It’s a Wednesday’ he said to the angels, ‘I’ve nearly broken the back of this one, just get through today then Thursday’s the new Friday and I’m as good as done! Woohoo’. And lo, across all the half-baked, unfinished universe, the angels did echo that mighty ‘woohoo’ of joy, inadvertently creating echoes in the process, making His job even easier as he had planned to do that right after lunch. Certainly before ‘Countdown’ started anyway.

Sadly we are not gods and time does not bow down to us, which is why today is not Wednesday but Tuesday. However, in one irrelevant dimension it is the third day; the dimension in which you’re following this cute, loveable, self-pitying alcohol-free diary. Are you there? Day three is fine since you ask. Day three is no problem. This month off booze so far is a breeze compared to creating the universe and all that. Besides there are so many beautiful things to enjoy in this fabulous Eden we have had bestowed upon us. For example just today offered this bountiful agenda:

  1. Sleep pattern broken around roughly 2.30am and never fully restored (thanks ‘the cat’).
  2. Woke properly at 5.20am to the sound of Vanessa Feltz. Talking.
  3. Woke every 9 minutes from then on until 5.56am. To the sound of Vanessa Feltz. Talking.
  4. At my desk by 6.45am, having followed the slowest Vauxhall bloody Astra ever, all the way to work.
  5. Skipped home happily through the crappy stop-start traffic because I just couldn’t wait to put the recycling out in the dark.
  6. Bombed straight out to the gym to humiliate myself in front of dozens of fitter people (in both senses) as my face colour entered the ‘very red’ spectrum and my sweat levels tipped me into what the police officially refer to as the ‘neighbourhood concern’ category.
  7. Trudged home to my lovely ‘the wife’ and grumpy ‘the cat’.
  8. Sat, slowly losing the will to live, watching some clueless arsehole pick between three desperate women on an episode of ‘Dinner Date’ (‘the wife’s’ choice). Note – I believe he really did make his final choice purely on how many seconds he reckoned it would take to get her knickers off by the second date/first proper date. Or was it just that they ‘clicked’.
  9. Gave up on everything and started writing this droplet of observational brilliance (my ‘the wife’s’ words, roughly).
  10. All accompanied by two delicious bottles of Becks Blue (alcohol free, of course).

Now surely that’s why we’re here of earth. That’s why we’re the luckiest, most advanced of all the creatures that ever existed. It’s important to remember that and cherish every moment. I’m fairly optimistic now (can’t you tell?) but I reckon I won’t be enjoying it quite so much until the 1st of December turns up. Let’s wait and see, shall we? How very sad.

G.B. Hewitt 3.11.2015

Punctuation very poor. Off to bed.

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