Sydney lost by one point. One fucking point!
Everyone was going out for dinner afterwards, but I declined because I wanted to come home and scribble. Not stuff for the blog. Other stuff.
But, as I made my way home, basic sentences were forming in my head:
"I got on the subway at Azabu-juban and got off at Yoyogi to change to the Yamanote line. I followed the JR signs to get to the overground railway but couldn't find it. This pissed me off because my feet were sore from standing all afternoon while I drank champagne, watched an amazing game of football, and met a heap of great people. I walked for what felt like hours until I began to recognise the scenery around me; I had walked a whole stop and was in Shinjuku. I was still pissed off, with myself, because, for the entire time I was trudging about, I had no idea where I was or even what direction I was heading in."
I figured that I would transform the above sentences into a funny story when I got home. GG stuffs up... blah, blah, blah. Pretty fucking funny, eh? She gets lost again. Who gives a fuck?
I was so relieved to be home. Kicked off my shoes, heated some food in the microwave and put on some daggy clothes, so I could settle in and be comfy when writing what was on my mind.
Checked my emails and was so excited to see one from my darling Sean in Melbourne. He told me that a woman we know hanged herself yesterday.