Tough, tough weekend. On the edge. Thank god for my parents. Sunday was half decent too. But let me put it the way Bilbo did.
I’m old, Gandalf. I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel… thin. Sort of stretched, like… butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return. In fact I mean not to.
Tomorrow I’m going to the vet with Esther. Hope all goes well. Having a talk with the bosses at work too about the future. The current situation is not working out since it totally shatters my private life. Stressed out to the bones.