Funk, Timing, Beer, Nap

I�m in a funk�

Or at least I was when I wrote that sentence this morning. There was no other way to describe it. It�s been building since about a week ago, slightly before I got a fabulous 24 hour stomach bug that kept me at home finishing Harry Potter and watching re-runs of Roswell, which I never watched to begin with and have very little interest in. Aside from those abs, of course.

Not entirely sure what brought on the melancholy, but I�m fairly sure the prospect of virtually everyone I know being on holidays in August while I�m at work has something to do with it. Not that they don�t deserve it. They most certainly do. I just want to it as well, dammit.

And it�s winter, and my birthday�s coming up but everyone will be away on said holidays instead of celebrating, and I really need Betty to leave on her holiday so I have the house to myself etc, etc.

Even buying DVDs, CDs, jewelry and shoes for myself over the last three days didn�t really help, which is really saying something. They were good shoes.

And with all of this my capacity for concentrating at work has also been less than stellar since last week�s time on the couch. Which was why I was starting to write a piece about being in a funk at 10 o�clock this morning, instead of working. I wrote the first sentence then got a phone call and had to rush to a meeting and then return the calls I missed while I was out and the next thing I knew it was 12 and I could reasonably run to lunch.

I was just walking into my office to pick up my coat and thinking that I should call Nathan � who is on holiday, of course � and arrange to go over there one evening and drop off a pile of video tapes and photos and stuff that have been sitting in my office for several days. Just as I was thinking this my phone beeped with a text message. Who should it be but Nathan himself. Psychic!

Was I free for lunch?

Was I ever. And at this point I hadn�t even considered that this would be a Nathan. lunch when he�s on holidays, so there would be beer involved. Silly me.

A long lunch in the pub around the corner trying new beers and hearty winter pies was entirely satisfactory. Funk temporarily removed. Replaced with a groaning �I ate too much�. We really ate too much. So much so we couldn�t bring ourselves to order a final beer because it wouldn�t fit. Which is unlike us. Not that I needed another beer anyway. What with having to work this afternoon, dammit!

Of course I still can�t concentrate at work. But now it�s because I really, really need a nap. Big lunches with beer are not good on a Tuesday when you have to go back to work. They worked really, really well when we were at uni. But not so much at work.

So, of course, we�re doing it all again next week�