I suppose it's just one of those nights of half formed ideas and irritations everywhere.
From the utility door left open, inviting back garden crooks, to the banger that went off only a few feet from me, all the way to work and the covering of Fulham v Hull - clash of the fucking titans - it's left me with a foggy and stupid head that's grateful for the fact that I live alone so I can turn my frustrations to drivel... such as this... and not towards some undeserving housemate.
It really has just been one of those off kilter days. A stopped watch, clothes still damp, irrational faculty head demands, a shoelace broken and juice spilled on an outsized shirt sleeve rolled back. There was more and there was less and there was me threatening a smile before allowing my more miserablist tendencies to flourish but, again, there was nobody next to me to notice and that was the best thing about today.
I ran out of Twixes is all.