It's my birthday today, probably spend the day sitting on my sofa.
What a crap life!
I took this week off work, was going to take the bike up to Northampton and Nottingham to visit friends. Had it all planned, but as the start of the holiday drew nearer I started to chicken out. What if this isn't agrophobia but just plain depression? whatever it is it is going to ruin my life if I don't sort it out.
I decided not to take the bike up to Northampton, especially since I've not had the courage to ride it for three weeks now (almost four). I decided I would take a train up to Northampton, then another train in the week to Nottingham. But then I remembered their is no way of getting an easy train from Northampton to Nottingham.
So I then decided to make two seperate journeys.
Guinea the Pig (the only man in my life) can survive happily for two days but not a whole week so coming back would suit us better. Especially since I hadn't even sorted out a babysitter for him.
By Sunday I knew I wasn't going anywhere on Monday, I promised myself that I would leave on Tuesday, then Tuesday I promised I would leave on Wednesday. Now it's 2.30am Thursday.
So, happy birthday to me.
I'm 34, they say 40 is the new 30, but not in my house!
I think I will be 29 this year, I've been 27 for a few years now and people are getting suspicious.
If I knew then what I know now I'd have crawled back into the womb. Mind you, if I knew my mother then like I know her now I probably would've crawled into a strangers womb. Why oh why didn't the social workers knock on our door?
I have a temporary moment of excitement about an hour ago. I suddenly thought, why don't I go on the internet and see how much it costs to get the eurostar to Paris. If I can't even get myself to Northampton I've little hope of making that far!
