Frustration

Yesterday was a very dispiriting day. In fact I doubt it would have have been more dispiriting if someone had sawn off my head with an emery board, filled my torso with angry bees and then fused my head back on with a bunsen burner. It's not that I was not given anything to do - I was actually given a few leads for once - but I couldn't do much with the stuff I was given. My headlines were feeble, my sentences were unwieldy; I didn't feel so much a sub-editor as just sub-standard. By the end of the day I felt very low on confidence and just wanted to go home. There was no time to discuss any future shifts with my boss either so as of now I am in limbo once more. But if I was him I wouldn't be in a hurry to ask me back.
To make matters worse I ended up staying half an hour later than usual so I could finish off a story which meant I missed my train. I jumped on the circle line and we ended up going nowhere because of a signal failure at Edgware Road. By now I was increasingly fed up and feeling strangely violent. I kept thinking some youths further down the carriage were going to mug me and I was almost willing them to attack me so I could fly into a psychotic rage and, through sheer animal fury, send them on their way to the next life. In the end I read my book. Anyway, thinking I was clever, I jumped off at Paddington and tried to change on to the Hammersmith line. Why did I do this? What was my logic? Not only is the Hammersmith line on the other side of Paddington's extremely large station but it just goes the same way as the circle line anyway, on the same track. I estimate I simply added another 20 minutes to my journey. I am going back to Denmark now and it's not a moment too soon.