Today I got home at about 10 AM. A friend of mine had me over last night for Christmas Eve dinner, seeing as how he is also alone in the city for the holiday.
His original plan was that we would eat Hungry Man dinners, and then shoot ourselves in the head, but in the end, we settled for the traditional Christmas lasagna, far to much booze, and the newest Tracey Ullman DVD (State of the Union), which was, by the way, fricken hilarious (my favourite character was Padma the pharmacist).
I had a great time, and can I just say let's hear it for alcohol? I mean, it's like this magical feel-good potion that had me laughing and singing and feeling good. Man, I wish I could drink all the time.
Anyways, I bused (bussed?) home this morning, fed the cats, and lied in bed all day. Can't look for work, can't go out, should do laundry but don't feel like it. I've been having a lot of bad dreams about my former workplace lately. Even now I am still slightly hung over and my neck still hurts.
I am usually filled with optimism at the end of the year, as uncharacteristic as that may be. This time, though, just trepidation. I just want to get back to the road.
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