Max-ed out

I did almost nothing yesterday - I was rostered a one-off night shift, which didn't start until 11:30, and simply couldn't be bothered to get ready to go anywhere during the day. This wasn't, entirely, a good move, and underlined the reasons why I've spent as little time as possible at 'base' in the past couple of weeks, because I spent far too much of the day brooding about 'worst-case scenarios', stressing myself out to the extent that my heart meds could barely keep my arrhythmia under control. I haven't made the same mistake today, though - I left work at 7:30 this morning, and I've been meandering since then, until I fetched up in my 'London local' about 45 minutes ago. And there have been some collateral benefits, most notably the eponymous Max - a bloody good name for a sheepdog, in my opinion, rather than for the cutest boy I've seen for a week or three! - who I saw not more than about 20 minutes after I'd left work, thought I'd seen the last of when he and his mother got off of the bus at its terminus, but who then miraculously reappeared on my next bus, as they got on at the stop after me, and ended up sitting immediately behind me, hence my getting to know his name. He was in the 'strictly eye candy' category - he was 11, give or take - but he certainly brightened my morning. So, the plan now is for a moderate amount of Staropramen, and then back to 'domicile-ville' for an early night - I'm back on earlies in the morning, for my sins. Another chapter in the 35 year endurance test called shift work. Such fun!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B