No, life is sick and cruel instead.

Yes, my two week marathon of doing nothing is approaching a tragic and tepid ending, by the shores of the River Clyde. No, not suicide, just the fact that I have to cross the darn river to get to work. However, I should not complain about having two weeks in which I did nothing - instead, I should be grateful for the rest and relaxation, so to speak.

I met Squirrelhead on Saturday for the first time since our ever-so-brief encounter at the Morrissey gig last November. Squirrelhead really is quite the character. I turned up with my "Hatful of Hollow" t-shirt, whilst she appeared with a Mansun effort. Despite my best efforts at dodging past her, we eventually did meet (she cornered me as I attempted to buy a fried Mars bar).

It was a most enjoyable day - I had my first lunch date for some time, under a candlelit dinner of pizza. There was even a flower on the table, in a vase with water (despite the flower being artificial - who do these people think we are?). I was tempted to get up and dance with the flower in my back pocket, but Squirrelhead beat me to it. Following our delightful pizza experience, we went to a pub packed full of old men for a perrier and water.

The lady is truly quite a joy to (be)hold. She speaks so easily with me, and there was no awkwardness at all - unlike so many conversations I have with the fairer (or indeed more gruesome) sex. Having thrilled her with my record collection (seven Joy Division albums, nine New Order, eight Smiths and ten Morrissey (not including two singles boxsets), with not a lot else), we talked about all sorts of things. And had a generally good time. At least I did. When I woke her up from her slumber, we departed said pub, and I went home.

And I fell asleep on the bus! Oh yes, much to my embarrassment, the two girls behind me were staring at me when I woke up. How they knew I was sleeping was beyond me, as I was wearing shades. It might have been the fact that I'd fallen over onto the other seat, which was luckily vacant, but hadn't been when the journey had departed...

In other news, I finished "The Wrong Boy" on Sunday (the book, not anything else), and I have been doing nothing worthy of mention in the past three days. Apart from dream of meeting Squirrelhead again.

The lack of human interaction is now apparent in my life. I haven't ventured out of the house in the last three days, apart from going out to bring the bins in, and I believe I'm becoming a parasite of society, living a life that's not worth living. Who knows, maybe I won't make it over the Clyde on Sunday...

It may all end tomorrow...