To be off work and occupies is not one of my skills. I wake up to a new glorious day and think about all the awesome things I have time to do now when I’m free as a bird the week before leaving to Brighton. I eat my breakfast and read the all the two papers we got, think a bit about politics (or pretend for myself to think about it) and try to concentrate about the important stuff in the news, but always end up to read about scandals and murders (witch also leads my fantasy to go maniac every time I walk home alone) – it is not good for you to read about terrible facts. Read about more happy things instead, like… when I think about it there isn’t very many happy things in the news now days. Maybe in the culture section. Maybe not.
Well well, the day continues and I think I can afford myself to spend some time in the sofa just chillin’. Not a very good idea, I tell you. ‘Cause I always end up more tiered then I was when I woke up and I just THINK about all the things I want to do – take a walk, dance naked in my room, organize my life, have a coffee at some posh café... but my body is just like a dictator that snaps me with a whip and says to me “NO, just stay RIGHT where you are, DO NOT move!” So there I am, absolutely incompetent to do nothing of the day. I’m so used to be working six days a week that I get apathetic when I’m free. I’m so mad at my body right now I’ll make it suffer tomorrow.
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