We all love a bank holiday, right? Wrong.  I love the idea of a three day weekend, but truth is, this one was spent mostly crying on Saturday and packing up my Gran's home, then yesterday and today doing coursework.  Rock and roll I think not.
And now, sitting in the darkness at 9.40 (because I'd not noticed it getting dark, not because I'm being macabre), I can feel my anxiety levels rising as my attention turns to going to work tomorrow and the fact that I have 4 days work to fit into three as a result of the bank holiday.
As an aside, just to mention my most stupid thought of the day: really wanting to write a blog entry that nobody would read, just to get stuff out, and thinking how frustrating it was that I couldn't do that.  Then I remembered my diary.