To say that I am feeling down in the dumps is a mild understatement. I feel as though I am teetering on the precipice of a major down. Work appears as a vile, meaningless thing: I take no joy from it. Indeed, I can't even complete one thing without being interrupted by something else. I can't organise my thoughts, and not a thing I do is appreciated.
And as for the smug-faced tosser in the Audi this morning who thought it was beneath him to check his wing mirrors while turning, thereby coming extremely close to killing me, I am thinking several evil and nasty thoughts which involve various bits of him withering up and falling off, or anatomically impossible insertions of various car parts into him. Bastard.
And anyway, where do these fresh-faced fucks get their money from that they can swan around in impossibly expensive cars?