Not my finest hour

SO I did the networking thing. I did the chat and friendly face of my dept thing.

I drank rather too much. But I remained polite and levelled.

I left. Walking home rang a friend and shared my views.

I got home. Slept.

At 8.26am I was called to make sure I was moving and on my way to work. I did - just. I did not wash. I did not know which way was up. Somehow I got to work. I do recall it was raining. Grey. Darkish and cold. The fresh air a blast to my otherwise drowning head.

9.45am I arrived.

9.55am was my appraisal.

I was touched and noted suit and tie combo. I felt awful. Ashamed. Weak.
I also felt a touch thankfully grateful that I felt so bad cos I had been dreading it so much. I managed with only one trip to the bathroom to retch whatever was left.

Somehow I said words. I helped set an objective or two. What a terrible reflection on me. I make the all too most of free drinks - to celebrate and wind down after months of hard work and the result is a gibbering idiot who just wants to curl up and hide.

I came home. It was harder getting home than getting to work. I lay on the sofa in a ball until my legs were fit to burst with pins n needles. I dozed as 'Inspector Linley', 'Midsommer Murders' and 'Murder She Wrote' played on in the background.

I wish someone could work my mystery out.

Now with cups of tea and toast n jam off to bed I go. To curl up and hide...