Despair. Deep, dark, destructive despair. I've not had a bout this bad in ages and it hit me like a led balloon. I don't know what brought it on, perhaps it was something about the gloomy, grey skies, or the worry about the numerous eviction notices. Harry's absence has also troubled me quite a bit - I've become quite fond of that overweight bundle of conceit.
Despair has no life, no energy, no hope, just a gloomy sludge that pulls every glimmer of light inexorably downwards towards endless darkness.
So I haven't felt like writing.
At least until today.
There was a knock on the door, the first since Joe's departure. It was Elsbeth. She was worried about me and had found out where I lived by asking around. I was so touched by that act of friendship that the despair evaporated instantly. If I believed in angels I would surely wonder if she was of that kind.
Tomorrow I will go for a walk, do some food shopping and clean up this hovel. Can't be entertaining angels in this pigsty!
