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Just a few more days. Just a few more days. Just a few more days.

* * *

Remember when I used to write every day? Neither do I.

* * *

I've been so angry for the last few weeks, pent up with fiery nerves, full of blazing red fog. I've nobody to yell at, so naturally, I choose to yell at everybody.

I know it's just because I'm so tired all of the time, and like a two-year old, I'm cranky and petulant, and fed up with anyone who stands in my path and isn't ready to hurl flattery at me like rice at a wedding.

Just a few more days. Just a few more days, and I can see people who make me happier than anyone has a right to be. Just a few more days and I can get on a plane and be warm in the middle of America, in a place where the sky scrapers are only half as tall as our mid-size buildings, where the sky goes forever; where, if you build it, they will come.

Just a few more days, and I can forget about quotas and stats and customer service and being buried in my basement, covered by heaps and heaps of dead stylish eyewear. Just a few more days.

Just a few more days, and I can go on the longest holiday-just-for-holiday's-sake I've been on since I was 15, (unless you count that trip to London in January, but that gets excluded on a technicality because I went to work every day.)

I'm deathly afraid that I'll ruin my own good time because I'll be so worried about what's going on at home. I'm hoping that I can keep it down to a one-phone-call-a-day minimum, because otherwise, I'll just be no fun at all. I'm hoping (almost against hope) that no emergency will crop up, because then what will happen? Do I really have enough trust in my staff to handle something big without me? Oh God. My biggest fear is that they'll have to call me, because that means that something big has happened, and it won't just be my own paranoia at work, but a real catastrophe that's occurred because I'm not there, or because of something I did while I was there, and now I'm not and oh God oh God oh God.

Oh God.

It'll be fine. It'll be fine. It'll be fine. Just a few more days to clear the slate, to leave nothing hanging, to make it perfect.

Just a few more days.

Oh God.

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iimage: Jack Vettriano