3 times this week now I’ve watched the doors close right as I got to them, and tonight was the one that finally got under my skin a bit, if that makes sense. Stood there on the platform doing the maths on how late that makes dinner, how late that makes everything, and just felt this wave of tired that wasn’t really about the bus at all, if I’m honest.
Someone on here a while back told me not to feel bad about the counter shop dinner, after I mentioned the commute eating into everything, and I think I took that more to heart than I meant to, because it’s basically what I’ve had most nights since, standing there in my coat eating out of a bag because sitting down felt like one more thing. The skin’s not thrilled about it — might just be me, but nothing about the evening has a shape anymore, no time set aside to look at my arms before I’m already half asleep on the couch with the lamp still on.
The sleeve thing is still helping, mostly, but when I’m this worn down I forget to roll them up before I lie down, and wake up with the backs of my knees stuck to the fabric all over again. Winter’s not going to make any of that easier.
Still haven’t touched the CD either, if anyone’s been wondering. Keep telling myself I’ll sit down properly and work out the penalty instead of guessing at it on the train, and then the week’s gone again before I’ve managed it, I suppose…
