Something is bound to snap - too much rain, too many gray days; a road injury, not enough exercise; the transition to a more sedentary style of beer intake; needing to wash laundry for the last ~30+ days. It's time for time off. I'm not focused, or rather, I'm finding it difficult not to ring all of the bells of our doomed apocalypse with every breath, which can be distracting as a disposition. Those sorts of feelings, like religious ones, nearly. Fucking locusts, and shit, man.
I never even got around to putting in my request for time off.
"All we really want is to get to the point where the past can explain nothing about us and we can get on with life." - Richard Ford