A Dundrum Interlude

So here I am sitting with a bottle of juicy water in front of me in Starbuck’s Dundrum. I can’t bear this place at the best of times and this morning has drained me. I’m so tired – need -match-sticks-to-keep-my-eyes-open tired. I feel like I’m going to burst into tears and nobody will be notice because I’m invisible anyway.

At the counter, I felt the burning. I was hotter than the fancy coffee machine that only Irish people under the age of twenty grew up with. I hate coffee. It makes me sick. So I’m the odd one out when we go for ‘coffee’. “Meet you for a coffee around eleven.” Firstly, I’m rarely functioning at eleven on a day off and secondly, tea please. The odd one out.

My Lady was up for a hospital check and has come out with cause for concern. Now I feel extra guilty. There’s nothing wrong with you Dotty. You’re making it all up, your mother isn’t.

I tried to sort things out with ElsaDaughter’s school but she wasn’t happy with me. I’m trying. I don’t want to let her down, I don’t want her to be upset with me.

I need a nap but I’ve a sixty kilometre drive ahead before I can roll up and hide.

I hate shopping. I hate air conditioning. And I’m stony broke like that grey Monaghan soil.

Get me out of here. I think I’m going to throw up my fruity drink, nothing innocent about that.

Jesus, I’m wrecked.

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