On-whine

Ennui has hit. I am housebound and feeling low. The sky is grey and I have eight million Internet tabs open, all containing things I have started to read and then lost interest in.

I put the radio on to cheer myself up, but, in a fit of complete appropriateness, it is playing The Smiths 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now'.

I am housebound because I have no key to get back in once I leave it, and Ben has borrowed my bike lock, so even if I wanted to go somewhere I would have to WALK or get a BUS and oh GOD that would be awful. I feel like throwing myself on the floor in a tantrum, but nobody is here to see so I would just have to get up, dust myself off and go back to sulking quietly. Except this time with more cat hair on my clothes and even less dignity.

There is nothing really the matter. It's just the 'old waking up feeling like a train has hit me' thing, my head is crowded with anxiety and paranoia. No amount of self-motivating inner pep-talks seem to have any effect, I just feel like I am floating around on a wave of my own angst.

I can hear our neighbours screaming and throwing things, and it feels like I'm listening to the inside of my own head. Something just hit the wall behind my computer as I typed that sentence, and it felt completely appropriate.

This is a stupid post, just self-indulgent wailing and gnashing of teeth. This time tomorrow I will be on a train to London, where I will no doubt be cheered by the prospect of The Big Smoke and a change of scene. Until then I will have to rely on the neighbours to express my frustrations. Perhaps I will go and slip a note through the door that says "he just called you fat".