11.30am National depression week started yesterday. I couldn't find much about it on the web, mind. Should I crack a joke about people being to depressed to get anything done for it? No, can't be bothered.
12.30am Trying to write a page about leaving home. She's been talking solidly for almost two hours now. Can't concentrate. I'm trying to just do the ok, yeah, ump, hm thing but she keeps coming over and showing me things (a book about drugs, a print-out from a website, a CDRom she's found in a drawer, printer cartridges) and expecting me to comment, over my watering eyes.
1.30pm Go to bank and give all my money (+/- £50) to Co-op visa, NTL, and Thames Water. Feel much better.
2.30pm She gets back from lunch. Damn. Starts talking about something (glasses?) "I'm one of those annoying people... "
3.30pm Dave returns from his conference. "I have to be on my way," he says. She starts one of her endless ones about Powerpoint. I seethe, then go to make tea. I come back. She's still talking. I thought this would happen, and I thought I would laugh but instead I just feel sad. "I thought you were going," I say, with a bright smile, and hold the door open for him. He makes good his escape.
4.30pm I'm two rants into the day and Shelley arrives for the third. She asks me how I can stand it. She means the smell. I explain it's been getting better. A horrible suspicion. It isn't. I'm getting used to it.
5pm She's singing along again, isn't it time she was gone? I'm ... I'm ... I forget. Place your bets on when I'm going to snap and leave for the day now, ladies and gentlemen.