Some days you go into the surgery and you just know you're in for a bad day.
It's usually something little - you drop a cotton roll. Or the curing light switch hasn't been turned on. Or the triplex tip leaks. Something.
Then you end up coming home, sitting in front of the television, eating a whole bag of chips like a crazed lunatic and wish there was something better in life.
In passing, was thinking of cutting my hair short. Can't decide if it's a wise move or not though. But seeing that I'll be stuck in Benalla for the weekend I thought I'd seek some excitement by cutting my hair and perhaps crying over it.