How sad am I?

Just the potential of her coming over (because I sent her an SMS lunch yesterday) has had me not using for two days now. I have had funds but not executed. I did my spewing thing this morning (gotta capture that on film, it has to be seen 2 be believed) but still no use. Working near 12 hour days, come home to work more, think only of S, love has its uses but are they only biological?

note for flowers:

"This is not a bid for you. It's not in my wallet, I keep it right here in my mind (see Palace Brothers). This is to brighten up your day."

(Uggh, that was tacky. Another bunch of flowers that'll never get sent I fear.)

It's after midnight now, so it' snot technically the 3rd of the 10th anymore. But what they hey.
When I sat down at this PC after dinner (takeaway $6.50 steak burger with no tomato plus pineapple and egg), plus a bourbon and coke, my nod towards straight society's accountant who grabs the whiskey as they walk in the door. Or better yet, have a wife who has the drink mixed and cool when I get home. The natural evolution of the whole hunter gatherer thing with the primitive man offered sex by the gathering woman in exchange for a haunch of game.

Anyway, I digress. I sat down at the PC, remoted in to Adelaide (Data Action) as usual <I just put on Machine Translations, randomly selected 'If the water runs dry' from their (this was deliberately chosen) 'Venus traps fly' album>. I was updating the mst (master) database for golive in November, with fee interfaces. Each product class (L-type in the old FCS lingo) needs an interface (general ledger connection) so that it can put the fee we are charging for a certain product to the correct general ledger. There were a lot to do, I had done hours last night, and did a lot tonight.

Around 945 I looked in my Suncorp account to see if Jet had deposited the $150 he said hew would deposit yesterday. There was $157 there but not from Jet, it was just my leftover money I was meant to use for groceries. Who needs groceries when you're lovesick? Honestly, it takes away my appetite, pining for S.

I put the last interface in around 1030, sent a Notifier (internal email) to our conversion analyst (heya Sue, from future guy reading this). Then I found myself dialing mumblers' number, expecting it to be off. Ten minutes later (well fifteen, I did some calculations on an EXcel s/sheet that I had promised him) I was over to his lovely (I can't say lush anymore that's one of the words S got in our settlement) old Queenslander. We chatted for an hour, mixed acid into the plastic streetspoon, he saved me from frying my veins with a litmus strip. He ended up having to add another point of gabo to bring the pH back to 4, which we find is good enough for injecting.

Now it's 1215 on Wednesday morning, I have shot#2 prepped and ready to go, I can hear it from here calling out to me. It will be an effort to shower and get to bed without absorbing it. I have screwed myself in terms of metro, but I deserve to do it hard, I have been stuffing up too much.

Why do I think my life is not worth salvaging unless it is attached to another's life? G by himself can screw up, go to jail, get Hep C, OD etc etc, but Guy with someone pert and petite (like S!) is a worthwhile commodity. Maybe it's my biological nurture need. Telling me that if I don't reproduce, spawn procreate, etc etc, then I should shrivel up and die.

I do believe that having a child would make me take more notice of myself, because then I was a person who had to provide for my offspring. They had no-one to depend on but me and the mum. If I went to jail or failed otherwise, they would be exposed to the elements.

What do I say about pop psychology? I have to add a google search bar to this section so I can locate my more painful subjects. It'd "be a good exercise" as I say of everything from asp cookie setters to trying to win back S's heart.