I’m so fucking stressed.  My flight is at 11am tomorrow morning, I just need to get on that flight… which was nearly not going to happen with me only organising my visa yesterday and them coming back saying they will review in 72 hours.  So that comes through, crisis averted, then this morning I remember the note saying I need a credit card to rent the car even if I paid on debit, BUT I DON’T HAVE A DAMN CREDIT CARD. So after spending half the morning trying to organise some kind of dodgy credit card and running to the bank when i’m meant to be sending important comms to chief pharmacists, I find out that my passport will be ‘just grand’, from the super Irish guy that picked up the phone in Charlotte, Douglas; a series of unexpected events… Also, Starbucks do amazing vegetarian food now, so happy about my lunch.  OH and I started my period… even though I’m mid-cycle on the pill and shouldn’t be having a period IT’S NASTY, MAN.  I don’t need this in my life.  I did get a super cool pink t-shirt that says on it that I can wear without a bra though, so it’s not all bad.  Get me to the US.

Dear Happy

Being happy retains novelty above any other experience I can claim to be my own. The bliss of 4 consecutive wonderful days leaves me peaceful, grateful and content. Bank holiday Monday draws to a calming close; I’m currently sat in a hot bath with the smell of roast potatoes creeping in around the door. I can hear Abby tidying, cooking. Draws bang and plates clatter but it’s a relaxing kind of noise, a homey and therapeutic soundtrack to accompany my last hours of the Easter weekend. I try to run all my thoughts through my head over and over, remembering every beautiful detail so that they might keep me company on darker days.