Swiss Reds

I'm in a foul mood again.  I suppose you're not surprised, at this point.

I should be in a good mood, really.  I now have a grand total of two friends in Switzerland.  One at work and one who is as lost in this place as I am.  I went to the gym today, and followed my 7km speed training with half an hour in the jacuzzi.  I have plans for every night of next week.  My new hire hasn't run away screaming, yet.  I've finally booked myself on a holiday to Brazil with HH at the end of March.

All good things.

Yes.

Still.

Roomie is back with his ex.  They're here now, hidden away and lovied up.  I hate them.  My ex still thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread that he doesn't want a relationship with.  And he spent the night one room away, in my apartment, two days ago.  I hate him.  My boss thinks I have superhuman powers and can somehow transform decades of illegal practices into kitten-cuddling utopia between now and springtime.  Though who knows when spring will actually ever come.  I hate my job, and the lack of springtime.  My body is always hungry and constantly gaining weight.  Yup, hate the old body as well.

Groan.

Grumble.

Crave chocolate.

You know what?  I don't want to list 5 things I'm grateful for.  I don't want to lift my chin up (although I suppose it might hide the doubles).  I don't want to put a brave face on or find some blasted silver lining.  I'm not interested in either buckling up or chilling out.

I am angry and frustrated and I want to punch somebody.  But because my mama raised me better than that, all I'm left with is telling you how much I want to punch somebody.  And it doesn't help.

What would help is somebody loving me back.  An agent thinking my book isn't shit.  My body deciding food is not a good substitute.  People choosing to walk the straight and narrow.  Switzerland becoming home.

For Pete's sake, I don't even have any Nutella in the flat.  How could you possibly expect me to cope?