Gettin' up.

Been having a lot of trouble getting out of bed lately.
Coming close to 26, it's probably age catching up on me. On working days I leave everything until the last minute, hammering the snooze button like it made a joke about my mother. I lie there, thinking about exactly how much time it would take to have a shower. Trying to visualise where my black shoes are, and if I could tie them while barreling down the stairs, and how I can get another four minutes in bed if I'm willing to have my coffee by shoving a spoonful of granules into my mouth and necking the hot water. I've not been late for work yet, never have been (Only once since leaving college, kinda proud of that.) but I'm coming dangerously close.

That's on days I'm working, mind. On days off, it's an entirely different matter. Days off are getting ridiculous. Days off, my alarm goes off around 7.30. I snooze for an hour, turn my alarm off altogether, get up, boil the kettle, fall asleep again and finally get up around twelve or one. This, for someone reared on a farm, is unforgivable. The last day I had off I didn't even put on trousers until after four o'clock.

I try to do better. I set the heating to come on so over the covers doesn't seem so arctic compared to under. I put my phone on the other side of the room so I'm forced out of bed to turn it off. 
But all that changes tomorrow. Tomorrow, Thursday December 1st, I'm off. But I've a secret weapon.
I've an APPOINTMENT. Oh yes. A big swingin' appointment. Okay, it's just with some bird who rang me from the bank. Probably wants to sell me another credit card or pat me on the back for steering clear of my overdraft this long but it doesn't matter. Tomorrow I have a reason to get out of bed.

Tomorrow I have a purpose. And once the purpose is done I'll probably go back to bed. It's fucking cold out, like.

Didn't I tell ye...

...that I wouldn't be updating this much? I might write something about Weetabix in the next few days.

Derilique-t.

I don't like walking past homeless people.
I don't like giving money to homeless people either. I think it's something to do with not knowing what they'll do with it. A shit excuse, I know, I shouldn't care what they do with my fifty pee. I'm a bastard in many ways. This is one.
There's one chap always outside my Scotmid. Forlorn looking chap. Seems decent. Never shouts out to me or anything, just looks at me with his sad eyes. This chap I don't give money to in case he starts to expect me to give money every time. So I mutter "Sorry" every time and walk on with a concerned look on my face, as if I have my own troubles to deal with. A look that says "I've been told I've six months to live", or "I've just been struck off the register for waving my willy out the window of the bus on the way to work". In reality, my troubles tend to be more along the lines of having to put the duvet cover on my duvet this evening.

I couldn't quite pull off the look today, as I came out of the shop tearing open a threepack of Kinder Surprises, though.

His face was less forlorn, more "What a wanker".

Slightly longer smiley face.

I don't like how... hmm, how things take my smilies and make them into actual smiley faces.
This riles me.
I like my sideways smilie. I like being able to choose between a colon or an equals sign, a big or little p.
But nowadays my phone, facebook, gmail, all these "improvements" to my life insist on taking them and turning them into little... pictures. Sometimes animated pictures. And I hate them. They ruin my original meaning.
I put a lot of effort into what I write. I'm BRUTAL at talking in real life. I mumble, repeat myself and say "eh" a lot. But when I type, I can take my time, go back and change words until I'm happy. Fuck, that top paragraph up there was twice as long originally. I frequently go back and edit my text messages numerous times before sending them. In short, I like writing, and seeing what I've wrote.
And if I write 'equals-P', I fucking want 'equals-P', not a thumbnail of a yellow face.
So I've started putting spaces in my smilies so they don't get replaced. And now my smilies look slightly longer than usual. They look like horse smilies.
Okay, this isn't the biggest tragedy in the world. It's possibly the smallest, down there with how stamps taste funny and how the plastic bit at the end of my shoelace (iglet) has come off.
I suppose if I'm resorting to moan about this then my life probably ain't all that bad.


= P

So here we are.

This has been a long time coming.
I've been writing little updates, fragments on facebook for years now. Little one or two sentence bits, about how I enjoyed a film, how I despise the priority boarding people waiting to board a Ryanair flight, even how I nearly lost an eye frying an egg.
But I rarely write anything more than a paragraph long.
So here we are. I won't lie, this won't be updated on a daily basis. Weekly's even a bit optomistic. But I'll keep it posted with bits and pieces, some stuff I draw or cobble together with photoshop.
Oh, and I think I'll keep things anonymous for now. Would like to have a wealth of stuff written before telling folk I know in the real world where to find this.
Oh, and if you do know me and you've found this all by yourself, well done. Now where's that tenner I lent you?