Today things were coming together nicely to launch me into fully-fledged depression.
I got soaked walking to work (as in wring-yourself-out wet), I had issues with my timesheet and computer, couldn't find the right words for a media release and forgot my carefully made lunch which meant I had to shell out gazillions for a falafel that tasted like soggy cardboard. The cherry on this rubbish day was a migrane that began squatting just behind my left eye.
When I went to use the bathroom, there was an old chap fixing the door. He told me he'd wait but I said I'd use a toilet on another floor. He, however, took that as a sign to start talking and within a few minutes, he'd told me he had come out of retirement because he was saving for his oldest son's rehab in Sydney for a heroin addiction. A few more minutes and I'd heard all about his other kids who seemed to attract trouble as easily as they breathed. And now this poor old dude, who should have been sat at home with his feet up in front of the fire, was having to haul arse around town fixing dodgy locks, just so his ungrateful spawn could carry on living their shitty lives.
I had to leave then, not because I may have inadvertently given him some advice along the lines of 'stop bailing them out and kick their sorry butts to the kerb', but because my bladder was bursting.
Please don't block my inbox with your hate mail but, yet again, I was reminded of why I am soooo lucky I don't have children. And from that point forward, my day got better...
(Pic credit: Google Images)
I got soaked walking to work (as in wring-yourself-out wet), I had issues with my timesheet and computer, couldn't find the right words for a media release and forgot my carefully made lunch which meant I had to shell out gazillions for a falafel that tasted like soggy cardboard. The cherry on this rubbish day was a migrane that began squatting just behind my left eye.
When I went to use the bathroom, there was an old chap fixing the door. He told me he'd wait but I said I'd use a toilet on another floor. He, however, took that as a sign to start talking and within a few minutes, he'd told me he had come out of retirement because he was saving for his oldest son's rehab in Sydney for a heroin addiction. A few more minutes and I'd heard all about his other kids who seemed to attract trouble as easily as they breathed. And now this poor old dude, who should have been sat at home with his feet up in front of the fire, was having to haul arse around town fixing dodgy locks, just so his ungrateful spawn could carry on living their shitty lives.
I had to leave then, not because I may have inadvertently given him some advice along the lines of 'stop bailing them out and kick their sorry butts to the kerb', but because my bladder was bursting.
Please don't block my inbox with your hate mail but, yet again, I was reminded of why I am soooo lucky I don't have children. And from that point forward, my day got better...
(Pic credit: Google Images)
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