Post-Tent


Saturday was a great day – The tent was painted and sprayed and looks marvellous, in a sort of neon-grunge sort-of-way… Me and Bobby Convey spray-painted Outside it’s raining… Inside it’s wet on the back of the tent as it seemed both hilarious and appropriate. Hee.

I managed to get a particularly interesting pattern gently burnt onto my back where my skin was left exposed to the not-supposed-to-be-there sun; the best part of it is where you can see the outline of my fingers as they struggled to push the sunscreen across my back. FAIL.

Today was spent hiding out from the world and aside from a must-go-i’m-out-of-milk trip to the corner shop – or should I say Tesco – i’ve done pretty much bugger all. Meant to tidy my room, meant to do some Pilates but no. I didn’t add anything to the MW#1 emails in progress that are sitting in the Drafts folder but I thought about things a lot.

Thinking about things inevitably leads to upset and so on-and-off throughout the day I shed tears, from the watering eyes variety to full on sobs. I never felt as bad as this when things actually ended, or should I say the coffee that never happened. It’s as if all the emotions associated with the loss of someone are only just hitting now, and suffice to say i’m not feeling particularly good.

I thought I felt so bad because it was the whole “i’m just tired” bollocks that usually makes me weepy but an afternoon nap did nothing to stem the escape of liquid. I got teary-eyed throughout Star Trek rather than just at the beginning when George Kirk is killed and his wife is left alone with the just-birthed James. Not good.

As I re-read things and think over stuff it is more and more obvious what a complete bastard MW#1 was; of course, me caring so much for such an utter prick makes me feel like the bigger fool for doing so. Ich bin LOSER. Also, fact and sense don’t apply in love and so although he treated me abominably – hello Jane Austin – I still feel so very sad, and still wish I could curl up with him when I crawl into my bed this evening. Even though I know it’s wrong, can’t happen and is utterly stupid. Oh Patrick, you really are the best.

Anyway, tomorrow is MR T’s MOT, and so at least tonight I will be able to curl up with Patrick and worry about my car in addition to my usual worries. FFS.

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