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Jan. 3rd, 2015 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolNew Year's Eve was rather lovely, in the end. I stumped reluctantly into work wearing trainers and a slightly pissy attitude which dissipated quickly when I compared what I was doing a year ago. "Ah, this time a year ago I was throwing up on Richie," I said with a twinge of almost nostalgia. "Work is an improvement." Not least because nearly everyone else had gone home and I was blatantly reading my Kindle in the office. (I have to talk to you about books, soon. Remind me.)
Anyway, I still sauntered out just after three. Despite getting clearance from this from the one member of management still in the building - and giving him my personal number to phone if anything went wrong so I could come back in, and taking a route home that meant I would retain phone signal throughout - I felt sick and anxious about it. I am rubbish at skiving. However, I used the time to panic buy party food and clean the house. (I did not, as you might guess, get a phone call with panic about the office.)
In the end only Fiona could make it, but that was okay too. I Put On A Spread (okay, well, mostly crisps and pizza) and we played Cards Against Humanity and drank heavily. We saw in the New Year, watched the fireworks, raved to the expected Orbital Doctor Who section, and drank champagne. Richie wasn't feeling great so went to bed not long after midnight, and Fiona and I discovered it is in fact possible to rave to Taylor Swift ALMOST SILENTLY.
The next morning my neighbours had an actual rave at 8am. I had to go down and ask them to turn it down as the bass was in time with my headache. A few hours later, when I re-emerged from bed, I looked blearily at Fiona, checked out the alcohol cabinet on top of our fridge, and remained fuzzily grateful that we had at least not opened the vodka.
We had a quiet New Year's Dad, playing Monopoly and eating chips whilst wearing pajamas. Not quiet enough, though, as by Friday I was painfully tired and work was, as such, something of a struggle.
But then, but then. The City was dark, with all the buildings around us having their lights off, so I spent the afternoon feeling like I was in the sensoriy deprivation tank, or in a bunker deep underground - no outside noises or lights. When I did leave work, the moon was bright and cold, no one was around, so I walked up to Temple station via the river. At Temple, I think I saw Tilda Swinton. VERY EXCITING TIMES. And when I came home I made a meal from scratch (well, sort of, but I'm not making my own pasta) and went to bed early. Today, I have done some cleaning, got through the Ironing Pile Of Death, and later I'm going to the theatre for free because that is how I roll.
I am, basically, in quite a good place psychologically at the moment. 2014 was just a big pile of fucking awful with occasional high notes, that started with dystentry. There is still a lot of fucking awful potentially lurking in 2015, but I just feel so glad it's over. (See also: My Cursed Dissertation,June 2008-January 2009, involving breakups, hospitalisation, catastrophic hard drive failures and a car being written off.) Plus, we're got through the winter equinox, the light is coming back. All these things together are... jolly good, all things told.
Anyway, I still sauntered out just after three. Despite getting clearance from this from the one member of management still in the building - and giving him my personal number to phone if anything went wrong so I could come back in, and taking a route home that meant I would retain phone signal throughout - I felt sick and anxious about it. I am rubbish at skiving. However, I used the time to panic buy party food and clean the house. (I did not, as you might guess, get a phone call with panic about the office.)
In the end only Fiona could make it, but that was okay too. I Put On A Spread (okay, well, mostly crisps and pizza) and we played Cards Against Humanity and drank heavily. We saw in the New Year, watched the fireworks, raved to the expected Orbital Doctor Who section, and drank champagne. Richie wasn't feeling great so went to bed not long after midnight, and Fiona and I discovered it is in fact possible to rave to Taylor Swift ALMOST SILENTLY.
The next morning my neighbours had an actual rave at 8am. I had to go down and ask them to turn it down as the bass was in time with my headache. A few hours later, when I re-emerged from bed, I looked blearily at Fiona, checked out the alcohol cabinet on top of our fridge, and remained fuzzily grateful that we had at least not opened the vodka.
We had a quiet New Year's Dad, playing Monopoly and eating chips whilst wearing pajamas. Not quiet enough, though, as by Friday I was painfully tired and work was, as such, something of a struggle.
But then, but then. The City was dark, with all the buildings around us having their lights off, so I spent the afternoon feeling like I was in the sensoriy deprivation tank, or in a bunker deep underground - no outside noises or lights. When I did leave work, the moon was bright and cold, no one was around, so I walked up to Temple station via the river. At Temple, I think I saw Tilda Swinton. VERY EXCITING TIMES. And when I came home I made a meal from scratch (well, sort of, but I'm not making my own pasta) and went to bed early. Today, I have done some cleaning, got through the Ironing Pile Of Death, and later I'm going to the theatre for free because that is how I roll.
I am, basically, in quite a good place psychologically at the moment. 2014 was just a big pile of fucking awful with occasional high notes, that started with dystentry. There is still a lot of fucking awful potentially lurking in 2015, but I just feel so glad it's over. (See also: My Cursed Dissertation,June 2008-January 2009, involving breakups, hospitalisation, catastrophic hard drive failures and a car being written off.) Plus, we're got through the winter equinox, the light is coming back. All these things together are... jolly good, all things told.
