Sunday, 9 February 2014


That's me, the disappointing one.

I was trying to declutter (with mediocre success but at least I took a bag of trash to recycling) and at one point, my mind produced a thought:

I'm staying at the Hotel from Hell only because it makes my dad happy.

He's so happy that I'm managing it well - he says I'm doing it well, I'm keeping my doubts - and he wants me to have it as a source of income and all I give back is a burnout.

I'm angry at grandma all the time. She's a terrible gossip and she forces me food all the time but hey, she's over 80 and she's showing affection that way and I'm the bad one for being impatient with her.

And... en route to grandma's, we stopped in a grocery and they had a whole jamón serano for half price. Mom was picking bread for a few seconds too long and I spotted a chunk of dried meat. Well, I grabbed it and then needed to carry it home. Just 8-ish kilos of ham and the added carving board and I was so damn tired. The obvious train of thought: I should have done something to prevent it.

I know that it's my brain acting up but it's annoying nonetheless.

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