May 22, 2020: Sixty-Three

Today has been shit. I have not enjoyed today in the slightest.

I was happily pottering on the computer this morning when it just died. Out-and-out died. Dead. Like a power cut dead. Hopefully, it’s just the power supply and not the expensive machine that’s conveniently just past its warranty. I changed fuses. I swore. I cursed. I spent nearly an hour searching for a replacement power pack online. I couldn’t find one.

I broke down in hysterical crying. Not just because of the computer. The computer was a convenient outlet for just weeks of frustrations and annoyances. My lockdown started with a dead PS4, so the computer mid-down is just annoying. I’ve been seriously pissed off about games nights, although the guilty parties appear to have just drifted off wothout actually saying anything which left us in a further frustrating limbo. An academic point now the computer is dead, though. I’m picking easy meals when we do the shop because missing ingredients fuck it all up, so my cooking isn’t anywhere near as good as it should be. The neighbour’s music and midnight stair runs have driven me up the wall and while the music has definitely improved, the nocturnal 10,000m relay around their house hasn’t. Bellends not social distancing in the slightest – including my aunt heading to an over 70s attendees barbeque. The same aunt demanding my mum hand over cash for her shop despite knowing that my mum has not left the house in however many weeks and then saying I should be getting her money and taking it over. All of that shit. More. Probably a lot more.

It’s just all got to me. I’m fed up of it all. And I broke.

And i really broke.

It just came pouring out.

And then Carole found a replacement power pack online with one search on Google.

That’s how off my game I am.