December 17th, 2004

Buffy - sanity

(no subject)

Firstly, happy birthday to the Clarelet, if she's reading.  Well, it's technically today...

And secondly, if you want a Christmas card from me and haven't given me your address yet, this is your last chance.  (This especially applies to bizarre_imagery and pandorasblog, as I've lost the latter's and don't have the former's.  Of course, if you don't want to [re]send, that's fine, too.)

Eni's present is nearly finished.  It sucks, but... it's original and a one-off, if that's any consolation.  I'll post pictures of it after she's received it...

In that vein, everyone's presents are random as all get out, because I was uninspired.  I apologise if you all hate them.  And if I didn't get you anything.  there's something about the run up to Christmas that's really bloody exhausting, and all my plans for early shopping get thwarted... if not by the tiredness, then by the fact that I can't damn well walk without my leg aching for the rest of the day.  I'm still semi-convinced I broke something.  At the very least, my bone is probalby very bruised.

I hate being this tired.  It just makes me irritible.  I was looking forward to my eight days off (how sad is that?) only to find I've been roped into data inputting on the 28th to help EIP in their move to the new system.  I'll get paid, but that's beside the point.  I wanted to use that time to sleep, for God's sake.  I lost an hour of present-making because we had to kill an hour in Bearwood while the car's washers were fixed, which meant I didn't finish it.  I'll take what I've done into work to show Sandra tomorrow, and finish all the annoying fiddly bits on Satuday morning, most likely.  Also, there's been no reply from Ben (and that's the only reason I'm online instead of in bed - to check if he'd replied) which means a) he hasn't read it yet, b) he's trying to think of a reply, or c) he's playing me back at my own game, which... well, I deserve, in all honesty, but it's annoying.  I suspect he may have read it; I overheard Sandra talking to him on the phone and asking if he was all right, in a concerned sort of way, when he answered.  I keep wondering if it'll all come back to bite me in the arse...

Crap.  I can't deal with this 'life' thing.  I'm going to bed.