Friday, January 12, 2007

the drugs don’t work…
Or do they? I’m at a loss in all senses. Work is well and truly going to hell in a hand basket. It’s all politics and rats fleeing (when they are not being shot) – yes, the ship is most definitely sinking. I vacillate – should I make like a rat or attempt to ride out the storm, grateful for my pension scheme, fully-stocked office kitchen and a job that covers the mortgage? TA is happy one minute and then smilingly stating that suicide is not off the menu yet, despite the fact that the pupster is totally dependent on him. I’m in a January frenzy of self improvement and have quit all my vices in one blitzkrieg of cold turkey: sugar, caffeine, alcohol, refined carbs, consumerism and happy pills. It’s hard to tell if I’m coming or going, frankly. Oh, and we’re stony broke – did I mention that?
However, I’m feeling okay for the most part. I’d begun to scare myself with the amount I was drinking and I had seemed to reach an impasse where the depressant qualities of alcohol and the happy qualities of the pills were cancelling each other out.

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