...

I feel tragically empty, and little things irritate and turn my owl-head into obsessive mania.
Like my 'space' key on the keyboard: it squeaks lightly when I press it, and I know it is a conspiracy to make my quest for balance quasi-impossible. And the fact that I have a blue haze on my screen that no amout of calibration can make disappear. And my 'acharnement' to buy those Pantone books on eBay, always being outbid by some anonymous ****head from Devon, or Putney, or Strafofooajdjfha-shire... The remnants of Blue-Tak on my pristine new room walls cause glitches in my brain. The sound of mutated pigeons gloating at my window at 6.00am, the squashed dog shit on the corner pavement, and the smell of my own cigarette fumes that I can't seem to cut down on! And there's never any soup left at Cofee@ when I want some!! The squeaking! The squeaking of the Space bar!!! UGHHHHHH!!!
Ouf. Did not help that I have added yet another design job to my list, with the little PS that goes "unfortunately, it is not paid ;-("... I run a design charity. Jolly me. How do people envisage buying cars? Or sofas, or microwaves, for that matter? Let alone a chandelier for £785?
I feel empty, and it is quite disturbing.