Urgh

A putative Letter to an Earlier Self written today would include a warning against that fifth pint last night...

I am in a delicate condition, friends. No loud noises, please!

State of my stomach as I stumbled to work not helped by the activities of a small yellowy dog out for a walk by the canal: in the space of about 200 metres it pissed at least three times and paused to emit a really quite impressive pile of yellowy shit (which contrasted unpleasantly with the bright green grass); owner waddling along behind it, watching lovingly.

I hurried to get past the little beast and concentrate on the graceful and apparently continent swans.

Writeoff

I've done almost nothing useful today. Whenever I contemplated doing some honest work - proof-reading is what's on my desk at the moment, and lots of it - my brain just began to curdle and I rushed into the arms of another fecky administrative task with a view to eking out another ten or fifteen minutes without having to switch my attention on.

I've marked "time in lieu" on my timesheet for the final hour of the day (public service: overtime is offset by time off in lieu; I happened to have a couple of hours of overtime racked up), because somewhere along the line I seem to have developed some class of professional conscience.

Home now to eat egg (I have decided) and loll in front of one or other of the available screens...

Anything particularly cheery happen you today? Tale thereof would counter my bah mood!