I found myself feeling a little nervous putting my last blog out in the big old world. It's only lately I've started to realise people read it, and with that comes the temptation to write to impress. That and talking about addiction issues is, from time to time a little like baring your soul. I'd made a decision not to write a "recovery blog" from the start of my thus far short blogging life, but its bound to creep in now and again.
I suppose the whole point is I write what I write when I write it, nothing more, nothing less. I just sit down and what ever comes out is it. Sometimes OK, sometimes not. At this point I need to highlight my desire to knock the fuck out of the bastards who live in the flat above. I understand they have a little girl running about and I love children, I was even one myself once, but for the love of God I wish the bitch would clump around a tad softer.
How quickly things change, even as I type silence has engulfed me like a hot bath on a cold winters night. In truth clumpy girl is more then likely knackered from her efforts to rattle the plaster from our ceiling. He poor little legs turned to jelly as she pounded back and forth for the last three hours. Round and round like some sort of demented moth bouncing off a naked light bulb. The little fucker.
So now I have it, the money shot. My feet are up and most stressful thing I have in my direct future will be to feed the fish, I like that. So very often I get to the end of the day with Mrs D and smiling fish. Even with clumpy girl upstairs, life ain't that bad.