useless - tv smith

i went to bed after last night's entry. ok, i lay there for hours, watching headlights sweep the walls and ceiling, but - an early night, nonetheless.

gave me a chance to think about things, anyway. i remember noticing the clock, just after two, the angry red digits like an accusation. still wanting a fag, still no word from Her.

i realise i have no patience with the imbeciles at work any more. management are a coalition of everything stupid i can think of. and the rest of them, just skilled mutton.

this morning, some cretin or other deleted some file or other. in the past, i've gone over, had a look, often been able to sort it out. for all that i 'm not permitted to swan about with a widescreen laptop i can barely lift, i am considered one of the resident computer geeks.

today though, i simply couldn't be bothered. i had no curiosity about whatever their pissy crisis happened to be and less interest in helping - or even finding out how it all ended.

of course, since i'm a mere temp, if i don't volunteer my assistance, nobody's going to ask me for it. that would be like admitting i had some sort of value.

so i busied myself with the mundane. fetched my own case-files, put each back when i was done with it. actually, i think i managed to avoid speaking to any of them all day.

ducked out, dead on four. normally, i'd try to put in a little flexi, save up a bit of free time. not today, though.

i realise i'm angry with myself for starting smoking again. it's been years and yet it's still lying in wait for me.

i read somewhere that, once the addict has quit, it's harder to stay off the fags than it is to stay stopped from heroin. although cigarette-advertising is quaint and historical these days, tobacco still pays for sports and cultural events, which smack never did.

i mean, have you ever seen the inside of a drug dealer's house?

of course, another reason i'm pissed off is, there's been no word from Her. nothing since that limp and half-hearted text yesterday.

ok, there's nothing between us, no promises, no happy-ever-after, but letting Her in, under my skin has made me vulnerable to these breaks in transmission. this radio silence is killing me.