Loneliness has snuck back in.
I want to be excited about moving house, planning where furniture will go or what paint I'll pick, but current mood is that I don't give a fuck. What's the point in getting excited, I'll be on my own and nobody will ever see it anyway.
There have been tears.
And stress. Over logistics of choosing, buying and fitting fencing for the new house so that the garden will be safe for the dogs. I don't have enough time to do it all. I swore excessively at my mum on the phone. I'm embarassed by my behaviour. I was a petulant child. I've had to send her an apology.
And I couldn't help myself. I looked online and Gavin has put his private number plate on his ridiculous new car now. What a prick.
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