For a moment there I thought I was normal.

Well then. I find myself with a bit of a problem in that I don’t really have much to moan about and, due to the fact that this blog has the word ‘moan’ in the title, it seems wrong to post something with no negative qualities. Still, I’m going to and that’s that. Maybe the fact that there’s nothing much to grumble about will irritate someone reading this and they in turn will grumble about that. That way, as an indirect kinda thing, these words will be related to misery and unhappiness. Something I genuinely hope for, because what is life – and indeed this blog – without a bit of disgust, hate, contempt, distain and dislike? A completely bearable un-toil that’s what, and nobody wants that.

Firstly, I had a most excellent Friday night. It began with a little culture, of the musical theatre variety, and was thoroughly enjoyable. A fondness for a particular cast member was bolstered by the high quality of the performance itself, leading to a double whammy of goodness. This was quickly followed by a few hours of drinking like an especially thirsty fish and dancing like a man who had very recently been drinking like an especially thirsty fish, all whilst dressed like a zombie. This merriment resulted in roughly just under two hours sleep, which made the few hours of overtime I spent at work less than brilliant but as is the balance of things. The rest of Saturday was spent with my delightful daughter, who was unfortunately less than delightful of mood but still a joy to be with. We ate a delicious pub lunch, went shopping, played with various children’s toys and also on the Xbox, because my child is awesome.

The offspring stayed with me until Sunday lunchtime, at which point she was returned to her mother. This left me free to construct my costume for Halloween proper at work, go for a rather splendid run and eat a magnificent meal of roasted Pork with all the trimmings, assuming all the trimmings consist of crackling, spuds, peas, gravy and apple sauce, which in this case they did. So as you can see, not much to complain about. Oh – and I bought some lovely new clothes in which to look all dashing and appealing, not that I need any help in that department you understand, but an aesthetic tweak can only help, don’t you think?

No, nothing but hopeful heart, joyous jigs, family fun and other assorted alliterated amusement.

Although now I think about it there is always the chance that I’ve overdone it exercise wise. Perhaps, on waking, I shall find that my troublesome knee has swollen to the size of a football. Something that will be irksome not only because of its disabling prowess, but also because I am not a football fan. This will put a swift end to my marathon training before it even really begins, meaning that any scrumptious meal will simply make me fatter. And now that the old mind begins puttering toward the problematic, there’s always the chance that my new wardrobe looks faintly ridiculous, which – combined with my increasing weight – could put any prospective new romantic interest off – which reminds me, a floral gift may not have been received in the intended spirit. I could have over stepped a mark. I could’ve under stepped it. Work could be awkward – On the subject of work, perhaps that overtime didn’t go so well. Perhaps I’ve made some crippling mistakes. Perhaps, when I arrive tomorrow morning dressed as Shaun of the Dead, I will be axed (as it were). Cast out without any hope of future employment, without any funds, and what child would have respect for a fat, stupidly dressed, perpetually single, unemployed, hobbling, poverty stricken parent. No matter how much sympathy pity garners.

Oh. Turns out everything’s alright. I’ve got plenty to moan about, and just as much to concern me on these not so cold winter nights. For a moment there I thought I was about to turn into one of The Smilers, one of those ‘cheery’ folk. But it looks like I was worrying, or rather not worrying, about nothing, when I could and should’ve been worrying about loads of things. Some of them probably not even worth worrying about in the first place, which makes me feel neurotic, pathetic and somewhat inferior. Which makes me angry. Yep, looks like everything is going to be not ok. Which is not fine by me. So that’s not nice.

It’s not good to be back.

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