Everything from now on marks the one year anniversary of our worst nightmare. To be accurate, at around 7pm tonight (26th). I remember it like it was yesterday.
Sat in my car at lunchtime, I’ve kept it together so far apart from one moment. It’s not been a fun day. I’ve kept the maelstrom at bay mostly by talking to my colleagues. In the afternoon, we ran out of work. Too damn efficient. This should have raised alarms bells as I know damn well when this happens, it’s likely the job will end.
The day went quick enough I guess. On the way home I had a cry. A proper cry this time. Hyperventilating, full on grief bawl. A year in and I still don’t know what to call that. It’s been a long time since I hyperventilated like that. Having flashbacks to flashbacks while driving isn’t fun. As soon as I got home, I ran a bath. A Lush bath of course. Once I had scorched myself enough and I smelled divine again, I look at my phone when I get downstairs and I have a text from the agency saying “I’m sorry but today was your last day.”…
Bam! No sooner had I finally been able to relax for the first time in days, I’m in panic attack mode all over again. Today… Of all days. I’m so sick of the constant battering I get since My Lady passed away. Well, it started well before that even, as you know. At this point, I’m firmly in ‘ya boo sucks’ mode that once I had fed my Princeling, I curled up on the sofa to sleep until bedtime. ‘That’s it, I’m checking out.’
The agency said they are working on getting the contract for the soon to open Covid vaccine centre at the local fire station so hopefully I’ll have something for next week. I only had two days this week but I had 2 days leave so at least I got paid. No need for an early night tonight then. I have a beer left from Friday so I’m going to have a chat with my friends and just chill. I’m done with today, it can go away now.
The Life and Times of Lord Crookedhorn. 