It's a squirly sort of day, the kind of day that Winnie the Pooh ponders the whys and wherefores of honey and how such things come into being.
I am not pondering honey or its whys and indeed wherefores. Instead I feel almost like I am attending a drug-induced version of my day. I feel disconnected from the usual. Even a simple act like going to the gym became a momentous task of realising that I didn't have my program or my water or my moosic. And then when I finally got there, a headache of immense proportions split my cranium in two so I came home again - jiggity jig.
Which wasn't such a bad thing really seeing as I was meant to sign on today and had totally forgotten so once more into the breach I stepped before realising that I had forgotten my sign on booklet and that I had neglected to use the old war paint - ah well, I thought - no need to impress anyone today! So I got to the job centre and the man said you are too early - your appointment is in another 45 minutes. Seriously? Ugh! This is what happens of having a sqiurly day. So I go and I mooch and I return at the correctly appointed time. And then I wait. And wait. And wait. Still waiting.
I think the job centre like to believe that they have this amazingly awesome system in place that never goes wrong and is so intuitively simple that all the cogs move round in perfect harmony and no-one is ever left sitting for 20 minutes in front of the wrong desk because they were misdirected and then when they do finally get put in the right pile someone else is seen to first because they forget to come earlier in the day. I'm sorry - you forgot to come so now you take my time away from me??? Back of the queue sister!! And then... oh then.... I get cheerful chappy number 3 who persists in asking me a billion questions. I feel like saying look mate - yes I looked for work - yes I filled in my sheet - yes I am a model attendee unlike most of the gobshites in here for example the pusher inner you saw before me. But no, I hold me tongue - thank goodness this is the last time I have to do this now that permanent employment has come back to me.
Next on my weird day I am accosted by a charity mugger and dammit I feel bad so I stop and allow him to do the spiel and give my name for a phone call later in the week, which I fully intend to not answer. He asked me my age - and when told, genuine shock. So now this day may not be as bad as we all thought - here I am, a young looking hopper out in the sun, hopping along. And all that was before lunchtime. Today is a day of oh my goodness I have so much to do, where do I start, oh sod it I'll do it tomorrow. So perhaps, in hindsight, this is the day to be squirly in. Hmmm honey....