A short foray back into the diary. I have missed it heaps. I have missed having to rewatch SSD over and over! Life has been crazy, and I needed to spend time being an adult, so no diary time for me! Zero stars, I don't recommend.

The Long Day of the Soul

Diary, Expect complaints. Expect self-pity. Expect misery. You have been warned.

I admit it. I am not much of a morning person. I do not generally rise and shine. I sort of emerge and blink, at least until I have caffeine in my system. After a night such as last night, a night of tears and insomnia, I don't think I could even manage a blink. After two fairly strong cups of coffee (with double shots of vanilla and extra helpings of sugar) I could barely drag myself to the shower and begin my day.

Dressed in my baggiest, least flattering hoodie and possibly the ugliest leggings known to Colorado, I haphazardly straightened and cleaned my generally tidy house. The Valentine's card and 'friendly' flowers made their way in and out of the rubbish bin no less than six times. They remained out – but I didn't like their overall chance of survival. Then to find something to occupy my mind and fill another day in the desolate, life of a reluctant spinster.

Chocolate obviously, and a little senseless violence seemed to suit my mood. Since moving to Denver, my hobbies have changed somewhat. I now spend more time online shopping and binge-watching mindless television than I ever did in DC. One thing that I had not really found time for since moving was online gaming. I admit I had a little bit of an obsession with gaming when I lived in Washington. I mean I had to fill my time somehow, right? But what to play? Old school 'Quake'? 'Fallout' or 'Hallo'? I settled on 'The Last of Us'. Violence, but hopefully also a busy enough story to occupy my very busy mind.

Dystopian destruction was just what I needed. The fact that my least favourite (or so I told myself) luddite would be horrified to see how I spent my Sunday made it even better. Good. If only all of that chocolate hadn't given me a seriously upset stomach!

Still dissatisfied and restless, I sought out other distractions. I imagined that Oliver spent his day productively in Church, reading something improving, like Shakespeare or Marcus Aurelius, and then alphabetizing his handkerchiefs of something. Well, Mr. O'Toole, I was productive too. I watched a documentary (okay it was a true crime special), baked (I can cook, but really, these were perhaps the worst cookies I had ever made - apparently leaving out baking powder is a problem), and updated my resume (I mean, I didn't apply for a new job, but I am certainly ready). I also spent consecutive hours in which I did not cry. Well done, Shane!

I also spent far too long planning how I would approach work tomorrow. Fake an illness and call in sick? (The flaw in this plan is that I would have to call Oliver to say I was sick. Nope, not happening.) Dressed in my cutest and flirty? (I see a significant flaw in this one – there is no one to flirt with!) Cool and professional? (Icy and all business in a power-suit and sensible bun? Slight problems – I don't own a power-suit and hate my hair in a bun.) Snarky? (I mean it is probably bound to happen anyway…)

Well diary, that's it. I am done with my sad and self-indulgent Sunday. A whole tub of ice cream is singing its siren song from the freezer and can no longer be resisted.

P.S. Really, today was a win. I mean I didn't head outside and dispose of my rose bush (stalk really) in the rubbish.

P.P.S. A double win really. I also did not convert my porch swing into kindling. It was either self-restraint, or the fact that I don't own an axe.