Train station bathrooms have to be one of the most depressing places on earth – they just seem so hopeless, like a desperate last resort after your life has been cut into pieces (sorry, couldn’t resist). I know this is far from the case – every time I’ve been in a train station it was either to go somewhere fun, or to pick up a friend who, while occasionally hopeless, was usually not hopeless AND desperate, being more of a “one or the other” situation. I had to go to the train station yesterday to buy Ed a bus ticket to Victoria – one way; the dirty bastard has crossed me for the last time – and on my way out, I peed. I kind of wish I hadn’t. Afterward, while my bladder felt infinitely better, I was very depressed.

Off to Victoria, for the Big Move. I am going to try my damnedest to have as much ME time as I can get away with – my mother drives me insane. I’ll be a drooling mass of humanity by the time I get back. I don’t think I’ve spent 5 days in close quarters with my mother since high school, back when we were trying to kill each other. Ed gets in on Friday. Here’s hoping he packed his mediator hat.

Behave! If I can steal internet, I’ll post updates on my mental condition!