7am – Have actually been awake for a while now, wrapped in a duvet like a toasty cinnamon bun. The usual ‘Do I even need this job’ refrain in the background, but the song stuck in my head, bizarrely, is the one they sing in the boozer in Beauty and the Beast. No idea why, nor that I even remembered the thing enough to have it playing on repeat.
8am – Just sat down at the desk of perpetual nightmare. It’s untidy, shock. Of the few that work in the office, they usually ask why there’s so much paperwork cluttering it. It’s because I get all the fucking paperwork. And the smallest desk. And usually if there’s something they need doing fairly urgently, it comes to me. Meaning I don’t get to touch my paperwork. Yet still they wonder.
9am – Coffee time. I miss Brighton, where the coffee was hand delivered by Small Batch, and was effectively on tap. Hourly mugs full of sweet liquid death. The glory days. Now I’m that stressed I have to limit to a couple cups a day. Max. It’s awful. I didn’t realise when we moved from there to here just how nice the liberal atmosphere in work was. I miss pints at lunch, wearing shorts and a tee, not being frowned upon for having tattoos, etc.
10am – Can’t decide if I’m having hunger pangs or the same stomach pain I’ve had for the past couple days. I am desirous of a taco, but then again, I’m always desirous of a taco. I could be eating a taco and be eyeing up the next one on my plate. It would be terrified. The amount of work that has been done today isn’t massive. I have a great looking to do list, but not really entered into it that much. Shock.
11am – Walk time. It’s actually lovely outside, warmer than the chillbox I just left. The fresh air is nice, and I always tend to think more of the future and what I could be doing to get there when I’m outside. Unfortunately the second I’m back inside I get hit with another task to do, which kills both the enthusiasm and the knowledge.
12pm – The office has gone strangely quiet. All conversations have stopped. Seems suspicious. Upshot is that I have a nice little window to write this. A little progress has been made on my to-do list, by which I mean things have been done, rather than the list has gotten longer. I’m running out of post-it room anyway, which I guess represents the amount of time I have in the workday?
1pm – Generally I forget about lunch. Partially due to the laziness the night before, partially because there’s nowhere within walking distance to sit and chill with it away from my desk. Today, however, I brought myself a bit of Chinese curry in, and it was divine. The kind of sauce that tastes like heaven at 3am with your chips when it’s raining. Yum. I’ve still got plenty of work to do, but I feel a little more, dare I say, positive, about it? In that it will most likely fill my time until I get to go home and just chiiiiiill. Even though home isn’t the ideal relaxing environment.
2pm – This is the odd time of the day where I get energised by a short walk in the lovely outdoors, but have to fight through the early afternoon sleepiness. I generally ridicule my friends who take a couple hours worth of nap in the middle of the afternoon in their days off, but damn me if I wouldn’t go for one right now. I wonder if there’re any shops nearby stocking hammocks
3pm – One football (soccer) match worth of work to go. Does anybody else measure stuff like that? Money, for me, get’s grouped into however many beers I can get, on the assumption that a pint costs a fiver. Heaven forfend when I buy the house or car. Or would it scale? This car is x pints, this house is x cars, etc etc. Actually I like the idea of someone asking how much my mortgage is worth, and instantly replying ‘Oh, about thirty thousand beers’. Note: I don’t have a mortgage yet and it probably won’t be for that much.
4pm – This is a decent turn. Everybody else has gone home leaving me to chill out for the last portion of the day. And a bit of an early finish. Nice Thursday night score. I might treat myself to a beer on the way home. Might. I’m pretty cheap right now so probably won’t. At best walk to the pub later with my little laptop and hash out a few pages.
5pm – Admittedly, it’s about half past right now. That disconnect between work head and home head meant that I walked in the door, had a snack, got changed, then went outside to dick about with a wedge and some golf balls. It happens, I guess.
6pm – Oooooo my parcel has arrived. It wasn’t meant to be here until Monday, so that’s quite pleasing. I love getting mail anyway. The Channel 4 Simpsons episode tonight is pretty ironic; Lisa discovers Bart’s band broadcasting subliminal messages recruiting for the Navy. I wanted to join the Navy anyway. Maybe this is a sign.
7pm – Usually at this time I lament how fast the night is going and how unproductive I’ve been. Not feeling that tonight, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the sun. There’s still plenty time left anyway, I plan on getting a whisky to go to bed with. Always helps me think.
8pm – Cheeky cider in hand. In the team for tomorrow; weakish side but means I’ll likely get to do more. Love the chance to do more. Gonna be tight though, we’ve got a house viewing booked. And I’m playing at being a taxi after the game. Seems like I’ve just lost my Friday evening. Ah well.
9pm – Fed and GoT is one. Seen it before but watching people’s reactions to it is often as good as seeing it for the first time. Almost. Getting some hateful looks for typing whilst it’s on – can’t exactly help the noise but will stop from courtesy anyway.
10pm – I’ll be in bed shortly. Yeah, I know, 25 year old in bed before 11, how boring, blah blah blah. I like sleep. I like reading before sleep. I also, since I’m not living in a liberal party city any more, have to at least appear fresh and sober for my job. Regardless of how I feel about it. Night night. Don’t let your fictive, destructive headmates bite.