DISCONNECTING...

"Did you have a lunch break?" I asked Junko.

"Yep," she said. "You didn't?"

"No," I said, scratching my head, "I don't remember taking one."

This is a bad sign, isn't it? I actually can't remember whether or not I took a lunch break. The memory I had felt like yesterday, or maybe the day before, and there was no way to prove it.

How has this happened? Next, I'll be taking work home with me and chugging through emails on the sofa. I would literally do anything possible not to ever have to do that. When it comes to the boxes of my life overflowing, that is not a direction that I want the spill to take.

Sometimes I go home and I've completely forgotten what it is that I actually do. I rather like that simple act of compartmentalisation: work is for work; home is for home, cooking a chicken, sleeping with the lights on and getting your dad round to look at the electrics in your shed.

"It's a real mystery," he said last night, scratching his head. Basically, I have a socket that's not connected to anything. It must have been once though. Did somebody clever once connect the flat to the garden with an underground cable? I hope so.

I think I might go home early today to make up for my lack of a lunch break. I could simply disconnect myself from the stress of today and drift off into a world of thought.

I might even sit in the shed.

In the dark.