Alcoholic drinks: 6 (but the night is young)
Popcorn chicken boxes: 3
I’m ashamed to say, but I’m writing this at intervals in the pub toilet on my phone… Stay classy, Jack. I guess it’s a testament to technology that I can keep a commitment, even when sliiightly pissed.
Been a bit of a non-stop day. Started the new project. Came in on a Saturday to make a dent in the workload. Haven’t stopped. Arrived late. Pint at lunch. Afternoon of hell. Straight from work to pub. KFC in between.
It feels like everything’s weirdly falling into place, out of no real effort on my part. Maybe I’m just destined to be that chancer riding the wave of good luck, or maybe some spiteful god is just building me up to knock me down… either way, loving it!
Sorry, back again. Cath’s joined us. It’s weird seeing her with my workmates. Hope it’s sunk in. Receptionist Boy hasn’t come. Will probably wake up spooning Cath as per. Can’t complain, I guess. Better than most little spoons I’ve ever had.
Project seems like it’s going to be intense. Clients know what they want, but I’m not sure if it’s actually totally possible…? Apparently I’m the man to make it happen. Like fuck I am hah. But we’ll see where that goes, I guess.
Have to cut this short! Sambuca shots. x