Talking about a revolution?

It's autumn. It's raining. And it's cold. I am tired knackered. And grumpy. And on the verge of tears. It's been like that for a while now. You always tell yourself that things will get better with time. And maybe things really aren't as bad as they seem. If you look at things from the outside, all your problems are nothing. Not only if compared to famine in Africa, wars and the like, but also compared to your whole life.

And yet, when you are there and then, things look grim. You are as stresses out as you can be. You don't see a way out.

The question is: how much time do you give yourself until things get better? And you start wondering: is it me or is it the job? Would it be like that if I changed job?

One thing is certain. Two things, actually:

a) I am disorganised and messy
b) I cannot stand people telling what to do if I don't see a good enough reason for them to do so

= problems.

It's either time to react (and by that I don't mean whacking people on their heads) or to move on. I wish I were a computer so that the right answer would come to me automatically.

Enough now. Back to my book.

Escapism is the key (for the time being)