Thursday, December 15, 2005
On the First Day of Christmas...
One of the hardest things about deciding to move on is that it brings into very sharp focus the current dissatisfactions of your life. All I've done for the last week at work is sulk, and dream about walking on windy beaches with hair blowing in my eyes and the taste of salt on my lips. Particularly Scottish beaches, for some reason.
Thre are some good things going on though. For starters, there's only 6 and a half work days left til the Christmas break, and we're being taken out for dinner by Cuck and Riptorn (painful, but I'll do it for a free dinner) on Monday, and by DaddyCool and StepMummy on Thursday. And then we're going out for our wedding anniversary on Friday and paying a quick visit to Supergran, Jellie et al on Christmas Eve before plunging headlong into all the Christmas-with-the-Musters-aka-His-family stuff.
My strategy for Christmas survival this year is a simple one: be so drunk that the accidentally racist, deliberately homophobic, and unconsciously xenophobic comments float over my oblivious little head. Oh, and I'll keep the 'I've got a migraine coming on' escape route in reserve...
Thre are some good things going on though. For starters, there's only 6 and a half work days left til the Christmas break, and we're being taken out for dinner by Cuck and Riptorn (painful, but I'll do it for a free dinner) on Monday, and by DaddyCool and StepMummy on Thursday. And then we're going out for our wedding anniversary on Friday and paying a quick visit to Supergran, Jellie et al on Christmas Eve before plunging headlong into all the Christmas-with-the-Musters-aka-His-family stuff.
My strategy for Christmas survival this year is a simple one: be so drunk that the accidentally racist, deliberately homophobic, and unconsciously xenophobic comments float over my oblivious little head. Oh, and I'll keep the 'I've got a migraine coming on' escape route in reserve...
