holidays are supposed to be relaxing right?
RIGHT?!
huh… let me just check…
hol·i·day
n. A day free from work that one may spend at leisure, especially a day on which custom or the law dictates a halting of general business activity to commemorate or celebrate a particular event.
ok… so my understanding of the definition seems to be correct..why exactly am I not experiencing this so-called “leisure”?
So far this week I’ve spent a couple of hours at home to unwind. Aside from that, I’ve been running around the Perth countryside trying to tie up loose ends before my trip. Paperwork had to be filled in, passports had to be photocopied, luggage had to be fetched from everyone I had lent them to and retarded gardeners had to be rescheduled. In an attempt at getting some me-time, I decided to go for a jog at the beach yesterday afternoon - my head was so lost in thoughts about trip preparation that i managed to run straight into a parked car, ricocheting into a large bush with lots of pretty little pink and white flowers.
Naturally these pretty little posies seemed to attract a large number of bees…I hate bees.
My insomnia has kicked into full gear recently so I went to the doctor to get some stronger pills given the fact that I seem to have developed a bit of a tolerance to the current batch of temazepam that I have. During the consult, Dr Seuss noticed me grinding my teeth and not being able to sit still. I naturally have a tendency to fidget, plus before i got there I had polished off my 3rd Red Bull for the afternoon (it’s all I had to drink in the fridge). After a series of go-nowhere questions and a quick glance at the clock above me (I was his last patient) he turns to his computer, punches in a bunch of random words and prints me out a script. He tells me that these magical little pills will deal with my anxiety and help me to sleep.
After getting home from getting the script made out, I did a quick google search on the drug I’ve been prescribed. Lo and behold the old codger had prescribed me anti-depressants. This didn’t particularly bother me until I saw the side effects - diarrhea, nausea and insomnia…. yes, the same bloody disorder I’m trying to cure happens to be a side-effect.
Bastards.
Whats worse is that I only ask for script-medication because over the counter drugs have a nasty half-life of 12 hours, which is why they usually give me a mofo of a hangover the next morning. According to alphapharm who make the pills, the half-life is 18 hours. Gah. Arg. Mrghgffff.
Angry angry angry grum.
So here I am, waiting impatiently for the weekend to come. Yes, I’m on holidays yet I want the weekend to come and save me. Not exactly quite sure what I’m doing this weekend.. Thankfully people seem to plan my weekends for me. I’ll go and do whatever anyone tells me… Honestly, one day if someone tells me to go perform fellatio on a goat during the weekend, I’ll do it. As long as I know it benefits me in some kind of weekendy-goodness kinda way.
I’ve made a decision that life was much easier when I was 6. Back in those days you didn’t have to worry about much.. All that was on my mind at the time were simple things, like when was Voltron on, how many chocolates I can stuff down my throat before I get sick and how I play on the trampoline in the backyard without havng that weird old bloke from next door try and show me his willy.
Ahh yes… creepy old man willies… memories.
Unfortunately though I don’t own a time machine nor am I able to slingshot myself around the sun using it’s immense gravitational pull - so I’ll just have to make do.
Ok. vent over. back to work.
G
