It is traditional to start a new week with a Monday. Unless you’re seriously old school and begin it with a Sunday. Which is ridiculous, Sunday is the seventh day, the resty day, the completely opposite of start of the week day.
I started this week with a Monday because there happened to be one lying about the place looking forlorn and frightened. Or was that my own face in the mirror? Perhaps it was somebody else’s face in the mirror? Spectral visages r us.
I had to go to my six monthly respiratory check up which is often a terrible trial and a source of anxiety. The prior anxiety existed but for reasons I cannot quite pin down the actual event wasn’t a trial. Even better the results of my breathing tests were reasonably good for me, particularly good considering I’ve only just about thrown off the most recent flare-up. So they are happy for me to fuck the fuck off again for six months without fearing I will imminently die.
I like not being expected to imminently die, it makes me go and drink coffee. Being in town to drink coffee does quite swiftly remind me that I’m mental and dislike being subjected to the general public for long periods. So I soon came home to drink coffee of lesser quality but which tasted all the better for not having the general public reflected in its blacky/browny surface.