Blatant self-pity, please ignore

This morning I lay in bed, half awake, for an hour and twenty minutes – listening to the radio, attempting to convince myself to get up. And now it’s after lunch and I wish I were still there. It’s just the post-holiday blues, I guess.

Willing myself to concentrate on work, now, but my tasks today are all so vague and hard to pin down. If I had a piece of buggy code that needed to work by the end of the day, it would be so much easier to get on with it, but it’s all “research” and all I want to do is go home and stay under the covers for at least a long weekend. I do have a lingering cold (the British climate, or rather, the British attitude to such issues as insulation and ventilation, does not agree with me), but it’s not anywhere bad enough to get me off work. It’s not even really bad enough to use as an excuse for feeling miserable while at work. What’s the point of a cold if you can’t even use it as an excuse for feeling miserable?

Voice in my head: I Guess that’s why They call it the Blues (Elton John)