I'm writing this in Word, which I don't like as it feels like 'writing', but the internet can't stay on for longer than a minute or two so it's either that or turn the fucking laptop off and go to bed and I don't want to do that, I want to get something off and out there, though I don't even know what, just that it's broiling up inside me.

A few minutes ago I went outside to smoke my customary after dinner spliff. Since I'm back on the baccy I smoke outside and any qualms I had four weeks ago, when this baccy-binge started, about the smell and the illegality are but a vague memory. Until tonight when next door's teenage daughter suddenly bellowed, 'Why you smokin' WEED? Eh? Why's she smokin' WEED?' Oh for fuck's sake. I mean, I was sitting just outside my door, pretty much next to the fence, only feet away from their open patio doors so I only have myself to blame, but still, fuck off and leave me alone. Her mother said, 'Shh, April!' and then more too low for me to catch, but the bloody girl kept on about it, loudly, for quite a while. I was too tired, too old, too stoned to even contemplate responding and just sat there, finishing my spliff while they blethered away then I came in and shut the doors. I'll smoke round the other side in future. If I see the mum before I've forgotten about it, I'll apologise - she seems OK, and I prefer to get on with my neighbours., though at the moment there's not a spare square millimetre of space in my brain for forming new relationships - I'm barely maintaining the ones I already have, with people I love and care about. I'm done, basically.

Too much keeps happening too quickly - there's no time to process anything before the next load of stuff knocks me for another six.

I stopped writing my gratitudes - I couldn't make myself do it, too angry. I'm going to try and start it up again, because letting myself get bitter and twisted isn't going to improve anything for anyone. But first I'm going to let myself be pissed off for a while. I know I have a big garden and a new bedroom but I can't make myself feel happy about any of it. In fact I'm struggling with the bedroom - it's pushing all my buttons around 'deserving' which I know is bollocks, but again, it's a big effort to talk myself through it again and again, trying to get my thoughts and feelings to match up.

I'm being harassed by the cat now. Everyone else has gone to bed and shut their doors and she'd like me to go to bed too, so that she can snuggle up, but she can fuck off, she's a cat. She ain't the boss of me.

There's a part of me that wants to make this a bit more upbeat, less of a drag for a reader, but there's another part says if you don't like it you can fuck off too and read something else. This is how it is. I know it when I write in the box on the blog page - that's the deal with blogs, isn't it? You can come and go as you please. If I bore you or annoy you, you'll stop reading and I do too. It's trickier when I bore myself with the endless moaning, especially when I've decided to try and post every day again.

OK. Today I am grateful for: the cat going to sleep at last; YD having possibly found a place to live (Saturday and the guy dealing with it wasn't around, but fingers crossed); YD having made a menu and a cooking rota so we've had healthy meals all week and I only had to cook twice; my bedroom; love