Angry Lucy

Somebody is annoying me very much. I have spoken to him for precisely two and half minutes today and he has already pointed out three things I am doing wrong, laughed at me, and taken something heavy out of my hands because 'you looked like you were struggling'. I am oh, so, very, very angry. You would not like to see me angry, I feel. Fun, pleasant Lucy is gone and is replaced by someone who slams around the place and barks out commands in a humourless tone. I've been cracking jobs off in mad haste here this morning. So angry, I couldnt wait for glue to dry, for machines to heat up, to check if printers were switched on before I checked every wire coming out of the back of them. Goddamnit, I'm ANGRY, I can't sit around. Fuming in my futile rage, I sat down to eat a big bag of skittles and check my emails, but instead found myself activating my internet banking, checking my standing orders and ordering a credit card. Angry Lucy gets shit DONE. But no one likes her.

Loan-city. Next stop: full-blown maturity

Do you know what is actually dead easy and nobody knew? Finances. I mean, I never have any, nor do I spend much time thinking about them, but I walked into a financial institution this afternoon and walked out again in ten minutes fifteen hundred euro richer. What's the catch you may well ask. Well-GET THIS- I have to give it back. IN A YEAR! Like, are they thick or what? Is this the way our economy does business? No wonder there's a recession on!

He got me pegged

Do you know George, our resident Auld Fella? Ah, ya do. He who spends all his days on a sofa in the library reading Chekhov and an 800-page Nureyev biography, and occasionally delights us all with his opinions on such varied topics as the stupidity of the government, the stupidity of the young, and the stupidity of the Irish. He who we all refer to as 'fecking George' as he sends us off to find a T S Eliot authored account of Oscar Wilde's time in the Far East which, patently, does not exist. Today, prompted by my unasked retrieval of his cane from where he left it in the loo, he chuckled and threw his head back in a gesture that really made me fear for his stability: 'My deaaaaarr!' He croaked. 'For someone who works at such a mundane job, you really do seem to have a glow of innocence about you!'

Two weeks, six days

I missed my bus this evening. Missed TWO of my buses. The first because I was late, the second because I was reading an article in Cosmo about a girl who got twenty years in a Thai prison for smuggling marijuana and whose sister has moved to Thailand so she can visit her every day and bring her mascara and new clothes to keep her spirits up. I was reading the article and I started crying and I dropped my magazine and all my books and when I looked up I saw my bus drive away.

I think I miss my sister. Either that or I have smugglers remorse.

PS: I didn't buy Cosmo, I stole it! From the library, which you may not count as stealing but I DO.