mr angry

i often go running on the Heath at the weekend (aren't i virtuous).
on a Sunday morning, without fail, i see the same wino guy sitting on the bench outside the church near Parliament Hill.
i see him so often that we now say hello to each other.
last Sunday, when i saw him, mid can of white lightening, it occured to me that the only difference between me and him was a job and a fancy glass.
it was a sobering thought. at least for one of us.
i cannot tell you how stroppy i was when i woke up this morning.
actually i was stroppy at 4am when i had to get up and go to the loo (as i do without fail every night now. don't get me started.) i knew, when i went back to bed that all was not well on planet Short - i was feeling angsty and my hangover was kicking already in (see above).
i then had a weird dream about a baby leopard eating my sister's cat (with whom i share a home). i had to prise the big cat's mouth open and retrieve the kitty.
then my mum and i were looking at a pond filled with frogs and snakes. i don't know what it all means but i do know that when i woke up i felt like someone had screwed my face on too tightly and completely irritated at the world.
the feeling has got worse as the day, with its inevitable trials and tribulations, has worn on.
i'm so stroppy/furious (lovely combo) that i can't help but think that the only difference between me and a homicidal maniac is a sawn off shotgun and a samurai sword...