It’s been one of those days. You know the ones. The ones Van Morrison’s mother warned me about.
I woke up at a decent time. To the music of a digestive system in distress.
There’s been quite a lot of excess recently.
Did you notice my blame-shifting use of the passive voice there? What I should have said is “I’ve been eating and drinking like a newly-freed death-row inmate with a severe case of the munchies.”
Anyway, because of the raucous state of my innards, I took my time about the morning and didn’t eat a breakfast until midday. I did clean my room very thoroughly because today was the first Halls inspections and I didn’t want to leave the side down.
I also put my teeth through their new whitening regime. Now that I’m a non-smoker I’m determined to get rid of the 16 years of tobacco staining and have sparkling white teeth. It’s already working. I know this because I’ve looked at them in the mirror at least 43 times today.
I left home eventually and voted in the Presidential election. I love voting. That, along with admiring my teeth in the mirror, was the highlight of my day.
On my way in to college, I stopped at Boots, wiping the crumbs of my recently finished breakfast roll from my top. I bought a few diet shakes because I’m me and even on my darkest day, I always, always, always believe that the sun will come out tomorrow.
On arriving in college, I realised that I’d missed my Irish class, one of only three things in my timetable this week. Luckily, I made it to my departmental seminar. Which, as usual, had no relevance to what I’m studying and which stimulated me about as much as John Major in his underpants would. Note: I do not, I repeat, not find John Major in any way stimulating.
I made my way to our little office for a few minutes before I realised what date it was and got into a tizzy about my taxes. I went to the bank to sort it out.
Heartbreakingly, having worked five weekends of the last six exhausting every faculty I have, there still isn’t enough money in my account to pay my taxes. I withdrew almost everything, bitterly making the draft payable to the Collector General (a silly job title) and sent it off. And I’m still €1000 short. And the deadline’s Monday. That’s a story that I’m bound to have to come back to.
After all that kerfuffle, I started making my way back to my office. Stopping off for two chocolate torsades. Because I wanted a cigarette. Or a whiskey. And given that it was 3:00 on a Thursday afternoon and I haven’t had a cigarette in 5 and a half months, then pastry was the only viable choice.
Eventually, surreptitiously wiping chocolate from my lips, I made my way back to the office. I checked facebook and twitter. I wrote a few emails. I stretched a bit. Went to the loo. Chatted to the girls in the office. I upgraded my phone’s operating system and browsed job ads.
Around five o’clock, I ran out of non-study things to do. I started reading. And I studied till 8:30. So I achieved something. I picked up my bag, heavy with unused gym gear and went for a self-congratulatory sandwich in Subway.
I’m home now. And nobody knows about the sneaky biscuits I had on the bus. Nobody need ever know.
It wasn’t a bad day. I voted. My teeth are whiter. I cleaned my room. I got three and a half hours of good study done. But, overall, my self-assessment is “bleh”.