So? Then? What else?

I have crazy fucking dreams on Sunday afternoons. Not every Sunday but the only dreams I can remember are the ones from my Sunday afternoon naps and they are all either bizarre, fucked up or complete nonsense.

Blogging when you have nothing to say is a lot easier than blogging on a particular topic but then there's lots to talk about. I'm just not in a very sharing mood. Things are alright I guess. Mostly, a feeling of restlessness and vague tension like a coiled spring in the pit of my stomach. I need a holiday and its happening soon but not soon enough. That's another whole new feeling. I don't remember the last time I was this excited/ nervous about a holiday. Equal parts almost and a fair amount of tension also. Dear Diary, I don't really know what to say.

So anyway, Mosque Road and Ramzan food got sacked again today. Laziness made her presence felt. It's a long festival but it's not going to happen this year. Is okay.

I might miss Mr. Big also and will have to listen to hazaar stories about the genius of Paul Gilbert and how cool he was and how funny and how I should have been there. Is okay too.

Insignificant in the greater scheme of things.

Mostly, these next few days are going to be torturous. Must maintain calm outer surface at all times. Too much jumping around and shouting like 12 year old who's scored his first goal will destroy the little dignity I have left.

Also,dear diary,full on Sunday evening blues happening. I don't want to go to work tomorrow and spend another day pretending to be busy. I really don't.