For the last few minutes I have been knocking around the hotel room, trying to find somewhere comfortable to sit with the laptop.
There is a desk in the room, with a fairly comfortable chair. The only problem with the desk is that it’s quite high, and the chair is quite low – after sitting there for a while, your arms start to hurt. I’m now sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room. The arms are high enough that you cannot rest your elbows on them, and the arms are narrow enough that you cannot comfortably wedge yourself within them. I can see myself sitting on the bed before long.
And yes, I realise I am obsessing over something ridiculous. I have nothing else to occupy my mind. Nobody to talk to. Nowhere to go. Maybe it’s time to read a book or two.
I had grand plans last night to catch up on Mr Robot, but fell asleep moments after switching it on. I woke with a start, and realised I would have to start the episode again, because I had no idea how much I had missed.
Of course we all know what I’ll really end up doing – reading and commenting on blogs, hearting posts on Tumblr and Instagram, and writing emails to distant friends. Then I’ll look up and discover it’s 1am.