Or The One Where Jakey Has A Breakdown.
Today has been the worst day of the whole lockdown affair.
I don’t know what it was that brought everything to a head – a combination of not working for weeks, decorating, offering to help with people’s essential shopping (key work there: essential, what they ask for: Werther’s fucking Originals), the noisy neighbours, the lack of enthusiasm/offers of other game ideas for games night or just my brain chemistry being all askew.
But it was bad.
It was sitting on the bed crying bad.
It was probably the worst things have been in years, since going to Leeds for work pre-medication. That kind of bad. I genuinely didn’t know what to do with myself, at all. No idea. Not a clue. Nothing.
I was just here. But not really doing anything.
It got a bit better, but even then it wasn’t all singing and dancing. It was just better than going upstairs with a Stanley Knife (to cut a new seal for the bottom of the shower guard) and Carole checking I wasn’t going to kill myself with it.
Although to be fair, even if I was, I wouldn’t have been able to do it with that knife anyway because it was blunt as fuck and I ended up having to use a pair of scissors and a heap of brute force to cut the seal correctly. I could, I guess, have given myself a nick and waited for tetanus to set in. But who has that kind of time to kill.
I mean, we all do, but still.
So, yeah, day twenty one is the one that broke me.
Well done, you bloody thing.
Tomorrow will be better.