April 2nd 2017
Today was a nothing kind of day. When I woke up, I wasn’t too hungover from last night, but I was hungover enough to spend the day doing nothing. I was supposed to go for a run, but didn’t. I was supposed to start editing next month’s magazine, but didn’t. There’s a lot of stuff that I could’ve done but didn’t.
Those kind of days both frustrate and relieve me. I look forward to days where I can do nothing, but then when I get a nothing day, I get annoyed and agitated and claustrophobic.
Basically all we did was eat microwave meals and watch Thirteen Reasons Why on Netflix.
We had to move between watching it in bed, to watching it downstairs, to watching it in bed again just for a change of scenery now and again.
And that’s a pretty decent way to spend a Sunday. Relaxing. Hungover. Except it leaves me feeling rueful for all the things I could’ve been doing today.
So it’s bittersweet – and not just because I dunked homemade cookies into my coffee.
Rest days like today are supposed to relax and invigorate and reenergise you, but I feel more lethargic than I did when I woke up this morning. Also, because it was Alice’s birthday on Thursday I’ve been off work for four days, so I have no real sense of time any more.
I woke up on Saturday morning and thought I had to go to work – because I’d been off for two days, I thought it was Monday. That’s broken.
This is the problem with drinking, is that you don’t just lose a night, you lose the entire next day.
Until tomorrow, even if you only had a couple pints.