Puffy

Why is it, that when you have a good old cry-a-thon, the next day you look like you are missing a chromosome or something.
As if it's not bad enough that I'm feeling blue, occasionally sobbing, wallowing and feeling generally fucking sorry for myself - I seem to be allergic to my own tears.
This morning, my eyes were red rimmed and so puffy that I didn't even look like myself. This meant I couldn't really get away with trying to pass myself off as jolly and happy when my stupid fucking chromosome lacking eyes told a different story.

This self pity I might add is only temporary and a direct result of a bloody brilliant weekend away. Returning to work yesterday on my least favourite day of the week by far, along with falling out with a friend who I also work with in a school playground type way, has rendered me leaky of eye, achy of head and tired of mind.
I should also add that my ex told me he was going out on a date last night which didn't help matters along. Although I would want to know if it was significant, I told him to keep the random dates to himself.
I don't know why I care but I do. We split up 18 months ago now after 4 long years....
Is it just because I am not getting any? I think so.

Living arrangements

My living arrangements are quite complicated. Well perhaps not that complicated...they are as follows:
I own a flat which I don't live in. It is rented out.
I live in my mum's flat which I don't own but rent off her. She doesn't live in it. She lives in her own house in England.
Right, now that's sorted.
The thing with her owning my current residence is that she visits from time to time which is lovely. However, she also brings her friends. Rarely, I might add, but she does.

She arrived about half an hour ago with two of her friends and as the place is two bedrooms, this means a full house. They tend to enjoy rosé sippage and nibbles late into the night which keeps me up when I need to be asleep for work.
Normally I stay over the road at a friends house but he too has friends visiting at the moment which renders me homeless. Either that or I have to share a bed with my mum and become increasing irritable with their keraaazy late night drinking antics. (I am trying to remember who is the parent here).

So for the next week, I will be couch-surfing, which is fun.

This provides me with a couple of advantages.

1. I get to catch up with friends who I do not normally dedicate enough time to.

b. I get to spend limited time with the mum and her friends. A little harsh perhaps but mum on her own is fine, a week with her friends is not. I have the excuse to leave early as after all, I cannot treat my other friends' couches like hotels.

The other great thing about having a two bedroom place is that my friends can come and stay and the size of the place makes it very sociable. That said, my mum has developed this annoying habit of ironing and making up her bed when she leaves.
This means that when she returns, I have to iron her bastard-very-hard-to-iron enormous sheets and duvet cover. Utter Crap.

Sense of humour failure

Call it what you like - black clouds, holiday blues, navel-gazing, fed up....Lordy...even PMT dammit.

Either way, I have been in a fucking dark mood since last Monday. I imagine it's part over-doing it last Saturday night, part ex-boyfriend issues.

Yesterday, normal service was resumed.

Today, it seems that was only a temporary show of normality. It has clouded over again.
Most of all, I am feeling VERY anti-social which is most unlike me.

What is going on?

Practically invisible

So elusive in fact, that I haven't written anything for ages....

I have been on holiday though and with the mum being the only source of computer for a couple of days, I was loathe to log in. She's incredibly nosey and is far too intrigues about blogging since I explained what one was. Oh yes, and the fact that I have one....oops. Schoolgirl error.

Much to write but am on day 2 of what seems to be a 2 day hangover. Not good. I am so elderly.

I also have come back to a mountain of work and had the work dread feeling of doom this morning.

On the flip side, Wednesday is a bank holiday which I am overjoyed about.

Weak end

What a shocker. Friday night was reasonably drunken. Three crying girls at various points of the evening, one ranting Irish girl, a sobbing Welsh one and a lurking Mum to be entertained to boot.
The night ended well with the current fave chap joining me in the pub. We chatted lots, laughed a bit, I took the piss out of him a great deal and then we walked home together around 4.30am.

Dearest Mother woke me at 8am the following morning, talking at the top of her voice into her mobile phone....as only mothers can. She was on the phone to my sister, who happened to be in northern France, and it was like she was talking loud enough so that my sister might hear.
Being virtually talentless at sleeping I knew that was it. I was up. I was fuming.

I could barely look at her let alone talk to her and stormed out the flat with my head pounding and my mum knowing better than to ask questions.

I had the day from hell ahead.

After driving 2 hours down the coast and battling with a Saturday Ikea with a hangover, I can honestly say the will to live was weak. Child killing was high on my mental checklist.
Another half an hours drive and I found mum calmly sipping a cold lemonade at the campsite. Although my foul mood had subsided, I can honestly say that I would rather have poked myself repeatedly in the eye than spend the next two hours setting up mum's caravan awning in 30 degree heat.

Much much later, normal balance was restored following my weekend standard fare of salad, chips and a lot of wine.

Grrrrr

I am tired, bored and grumpy. Boo.

Bored of going out, too bored to stay in, bored at work.

Tired despite two good nights sleep after 10 of very little. If you can't catch up on lost sleep, then why am I still tired?

Grumpy just because. Probably Tuesday blues...probably tiredness...probably boredom.

Whinge, whinge, whinge.

Grrr.