Friday Friday should be my day

I have just rescued myself 3 for 5 vodka and cranberrys for my Friday night in. My good friend J___ is coming round so that we can smoke and talk and watch Eastenders. I am planning to put on the scary thing at nine o'clock as I know J____ doesnt much like horror, but she is quite sweet when scared or whatever. Anyway, my son aged 3 is fast asleep on the sofa, and has been ill lately, so I have to spirit the little man up to his bed without waking him from his baby dreams - who knows what these consist of - Bob the builder stealing his mummy and turning all the lights off? Pingu crying and not stopping? He did mention to me today that Pingu was sad, and indeed, the little plasticine bugger was crying great big plasticine tears. I feel crap, because my first crappy roll up of the day (it is 19:21) tasted like shit, and the dead man on the packet wasn't too encouraging - I honestly thought it was a fat woman on a sunbed at first, and I thought, 'how incredibly cryptic the government are these days'. But no, further inspection yielded for me a dead man, who while not at all looking like my big brother, reminded me of him and his 1000 a day habit, and in dispair with a low, softly thudding heart, I rolled my rollup and lit the thing taking a little slug of V&C. I really do think that I am getting a bit bored of this melancholy season, all those little crisp leaves everywhere. I think i just prefer good old cold and bone like trees, at least I know where I am. This is too melancholic for someone who gets melancholic even in the midst of July.