Irregular/regular

Work is all over the place this week. Two days of earlies, then two days of lates, then a day off on Friday before I have to work all day Saturday. So today I’ve been up since five-thirty, and I don’t have to be at work tomorrow until nearly 2pm. It’s almost like having a day off, except it isn’t. It’s also almost like working three shifts in two days, except it isn’t that either.
Ok, this is one of those confused, rambling, stream-of-conscience postings now. Sometimes I wish I didn’t think about things so much.

Philippa wants to arrange to do something on Sunday. Why on earth we can’t just have a lie-in, then laze around, then decide what we want to do later in the day is beyond me. That girl is a perpetual planner. She has to have a plan for everything. I’m starting to think the rest of my life will be devoid of spontaneity. I’ll be married to a woman who will plan every little thing down to every little detail and events in our life will become as regular as the tides and then I’ll get bored and I’ll leave her. Then I’ll go mad drinking and have a few meaningless sexual encounters before realising I love her and can’t live without her, but by then she’ll have found a new love who will be more perfect for her than I ever was and then I’ll end up alone and rotting to death in a bus shelter.
I may have said this before, but sometimes I wish I didn’t think about things so much.

RC 19-7-11