t-27: winding down

And so I began my last week at work. I’ll be off for probably 8, 9 or even 10 months. I’ve never not worked this long without being:

a) a kid
b) an agoraphobic, depressive drop-out

So, needless to say I’m a little worried that I’ll both have a kid and become an agoraphobic, depressive drop out.

Still, I’m sure blogging will help to keep me from being a morosely self-obsessed loner.

HA, HA, HA.

-0-

Speaking of depression anxiety, on one of the baby forums I read there’s a thread on the grim anticipation of post partum depression. Some of the women, 2nd time moms, had experience of PPD, could recognise the chemical onset of symptoms and knew how to seek treatment (this time). Some of the women, instead of describing symptoms, described their bleak and dismal lives, their poverty, their chaotic personal relationship and their abusive families of origin.

It was like a Jerry Springer researcher’s dream.

But I had to think to myself – ya know, maybe you are depressed. But I’m middle class, my life is basically pretty good, and yet I get down. Very, very down. That’s depression. But you – your life sucks – hard. Your sadness may well be a rational response to your set of circumstances.

27 26 days til baby Cletus

RTB

I miss the Rocky Top Brigade.

Just sayin’.

They shoot foxes, don’t they?

Did you know that if you live in London you can hire a man with a rifle and a night vision scope to come to your house and hang out with his gun propped on the sill of your bathroom window? And that he can take out any visiting foxes with hopefully no more than one shot (per fox)?

I did not know that. I found this out on a show called Meet the Foxes – which was all about the foxes of North London.

I’m not sure this is such a good idea.

I know it’s only a .22, but my patio is made of some kind of composite concrete. That’s the kind of thing that might chip if dude missed.