I still don’t know what sea samphire is

Today was never going to be as awesome as the weekend, because the weekend involved good French cheese and the ‘rolls royce of rosés’ and brilliant friends, and roasts by the river with my parents.  All the same, I approached this morning with optimism and aplomb, because weekends like that make you realise that the world is all right, really.

I even began by sending a couple of emails which I was worried about because, y’know, the world is all right really.  By midday, that minor risk was paying off, and I’d received a phone message from one of my emailees, who I’d assumed was too busy and important to talk to me, but picked up the phone because he wanted to chat, and we’ve been playing voicemail tag ever since, and that is a brilliant thing.

Four hours later, it had all gone wrong.  The response to the other email was not so great.   On reflection, it pleases me to know that other people have days when they shouldn’t be allowed to interact, either – clue:  she was trying to be nice, she was in fact being the most patronising fool in Christendom, and that was a shame because I liked her before.  Still, I’ve been listening to Radiohead again, and they tell me people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.  We both managed to step away from the keyboard before anything worse happened, and she says she is calling me in the morning on the telephone, so that will be awkward.

Fucking hell.  Being disabled is fine, mostly.  Other people are exhausting.  I swear, this time it wasn’t my fault.

So, exhausted, I considered my bathing options, and it was a very clear choice to go with the 85p Imperial Leather De-Stressing thing with sea samphire in it.  It smells lovely, and I was craving the smell.  I wasn’t actually expecting it to de-stress me, and it didn’t, but I do smell nice, maybe like sea samphire.

Tomorrow is another day.  I hear samphire goes well with fish.

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