Week’s end

At times, I get very sick of my workplace persona, which seems on such occasions relentlessly cheerful.  I especially tire of the sound of my own voice—its sensible suggestions and rising inflections—and imagine that others feel the same.  I’m looking forward, therefore, to a weekend of slouching around, not talking much, and of catching up on reading, watching DVDs, drinking tea, frowning and exhibiting bad posture.  First however, are Nanette’s birthday party and Archie’s flat-warming.  Will I take it easy or blow the long week out the bottom of a wine glass?  So long as it happens in a comfy chair, I don’t much mind.