Gin was sick all weekend, and it hit Munch last night too. So Gin went off to school today feeling better, but Munch spent the day in bed. It did mean that I didn't have to go into the office. A sick kid means work at home for me, while for anyone else it would actually be a day off. But at least I got to stay home. And I did not volunteer to trade it for tomorrow in the office, so I'll be home then too.
No footie on tomorrow though, I see. Great. I'm depressed, and I don't even have anything to look forward to. There's good proof to my theory: hope is the quickest road to disappointment. I dared hope that I'd have a footie match to cheer me up tomorrow, and I don't even have that.
Yes, I am depressed today. I'm 36, twice-divorced with four kids in a crappy job that keeps getting crappier. I'm alone, but even if I had someone I could really love who really loved me back, how awful would it be of me to inflict me and my life on that person? It seems like the cruelest thing I could do to someone I love. But I'm getting ahead of myself anyway. It would be easier if we could choose whom we love with our heads, rather than letting our hearts do the choosing. The heart is always so cruel about it. It only seems to want the ones who could never work for us, or don't want us back, or seem too good to be true and turns out they are, or take some sort of twisted pleasure in giving mixed messages because they know they've got us wrapped around their little fingers. Not that I'm thinking of any one (or ones) in particular. But then again, it's as bad for anyone knowing me. As I said, I wouldn't want to inflict me on anyone I care about.
Did I mention the insomnia has returned as well? I forgot to get any sleeping pills over the weekend. Maybe I should have a couple of shots of rum before bed tonight.