Fuck. Some days I would gladly pull a cover over my head and simply sleep through them. I’m tired and past the point of biting my tongue within the genetic pool, yet it’s only going to get worse over the next eight days. My stomach hurts and I fucking hate mother nature. I’m hot and should take off my jumper….and boots too but I can’t be arsed to, so instead I’ll endure the rising temperatures out of stubbornness, because stubbornness is in my genes. How the fuck do we all come from the same gene pool and yet half of us turn out like…..yeah I’ve answered my own question. Did I say my stomach hurts my stomach fucking hurts. I need to make a phone call that requires I listen to some bull shit music for the next hour at least..and the mandatory ‘we are experiencing a higher than usual…blah blah fucking blah…..and for a writer I’m feeling shockingly short on vocabulary, fuck…being my word of choice for the time being…and I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. My stomach hurts. I’m hungry. My stomach hurts. I’m feeling done with today but I don’t think today is done with me.