on being a wallflower
2002-12-29 || 4:52 p.m.

What is it about Sundays that I just can't stand?

I thought it was Sundays before Mondays that got me down but it's just Sundays in general, it seems.

God that makes it sound like I think its not Monday tomorrow, of course I know it is Monday tomorrow, its just that its still holidays for me so its not really Monday.

I need to get going on some good old physical labour again.

I wish I could write something enlightening. I would wish to write something fun - but that would never happen.

So, here's the plan for the rest of the day:

Wash up.
Go make pudding.
Make dinner.
Put on some washing.
Finish the email I started earlier.
Finish reading my book.

Oh my God - is that my life?

Rebecca is on the phone to Eleanor. They are talking about boys fighting over their friend Charlotte.

I still have a period headache. What I would really like is to go to bed with a book and read and sleep fitfully whilst someone makes me something really nice to eat. Then I'd like to be held close all night long. I was going to say that I don't think that is much to want really, but actually it is quite a lot. We are after all, born alone, we do, after all, die alone. So there's no reason to suppose we shouldn't spend most of the time inbetween alone too. Is it society or is it a natural hankering to want to be in a pair? Or is it something deeper and more essential than that?

Well, I know I wouldn't put my money on it being the final one, that's for sure.