… was what the sign above the cashier at Staples told me this afternoon. How apt. It’s a message I’ve been hearing from several sources recently, as I fight the depression that has been closing in on me in the run-up to work.
I can’t go into all the details here, but it has been a painful and emotional few days.
It’s nice to get a bit of retail psychotherapy.
As dad says, ‘nothing is ever wasted’. He’s on beta-blockers, so is more laid back than I am, but I can see what he means. My problems are likely to be short-lived. I can still see the funny side to a lot of life, even the difficult bits.
Two things that made me happy (other than my little girl) today were noticing how well people who say things like ‘that’s ma boi’ and ‘o my days’ articulate their ys and realising that policemen only need both hands on the steering wheel when they are in pursuit. I would love to know whether this was official policy. These were unrelated incidents, but they both owed some of their pleasurability to my trip for glossy photo paper.
jam and giraffes 