Crazy kids with their energy!

I've decided I'm not necessarily cut out for working a nine-to-five. Don't get me wrong - my job is fine. It pays the bills. But it doesn't particularly interest me, and it's not something I particularly enjoy. Even more importantly, I think it's making me older than I am. I mentioned this recently in an email to Anisa - it's like I get home, and I have no energy to be fun. My housemates are being raucous and playful and instead of having fun with them, all I want is to curl up with a glass of wine and about three episodes of Heroes. How lame is that? (Not the Heroes part - Heroes can do no wrong. I mean the no energy part). You'd think that someone who complains as much as I do about not having many close friends would be able to make an effort to rectify the situation by hanging out with folks, but apparently I use work as an excuse to be anti-social. My sense of play is hiding and I have no energy to go seek. Lame, lame, lame.

The good thing about being the only one in the house who's a nine-to-fiver is that I end up with about five housewives as a default. Several times in the past week I've come home to a chipper Karim, Carrie, and company saying, "We're making dinner!", and then regaling me with the menu of a meal I'll shortly be devouring. This (real) sceneario plays much more nicely into the adult fantasia. I don't like the "I'm tired and no fun" parts, but I do like having dinner made for me, yes I do.

The funny thing about this whole "ew, I feel so old and grey and stuffy and boring, what a gross life" crisis that I've been going through this past week is that it only takes one night out for me to realise that my life is still in my control, as helpless as I sometimes behave (and I think we can all agree I've been doing more than my share of whinging this summer). Last night I biked straight from work to the Barbican, where I met up with Theo and we grabbed dinner and then saw the Complicite show. The show was a little disappointing, but I'm still glad I saw it, and it was nice to bike home in the cool night air to round out my 15 mile day. The whole out-and-about thing snapped me right out of my funk, and the biking gave me plenty of energy to stay up chatting and eating rose, mango, and cardamom-with-pistachio-and-almond ice creams with Rebecca, Jed, Natali, and Agnese once I got home.

Speaking of biking, I have another bike! This is the second one I've gotten from the used bike store, and I think this one may be the keeper. It's not a racer, but it's lighter and faster than the other one, and it's been working out great for the past week. If yesterday's day of biking was any indication, girl's a little trouper. Yes, she's a girl. I've come up with a name, too, but I'm not going to share it until it's official.

I know I've mentioned this before, but I'm gonna go ahead and say it again - biking in London is awesome. I was reminded of this yesterday when I headed into the West End from work and, while biking down Constitution Hill through Green Park, looked up to see Big Ben rising above the trees ahead. Sigh. I love Big Ben. And then I cycled past Buckingham Palace. You know, like you do. Then Trafalgar Square. There's nothing quite like cycling past internationally known national monuments. It's really fucking cool.

Tonight I fly to Dublin for 48 hours. Will is starring in a production of Caligula for the Dublin Fringe that Conor's directing, Cian is producing, and Simon Ashe-Browne is acting in. How could I say no? It'll be good to have the weekend away - things are going to get crazy next week with moving into the new place, and... well, just moving into the new place, I guess. But that's plenty of crazy for me.