The Morning

My parents, realising that I am 'on something', give me plenty of space. I crash to sleep in my clothes at 9.30am, and at 11am I am awokn by my father. 'Wake up, it's time for your therapy apointment.'
I actually wake up, and get dropped off at the North Mill. Going into the Mental Health Services place, I sign in. The woman on reception looks confused. Apparently my appointment is actually tomorrow! Never trust the drugged to understand their own diary records. I go to call for a lift back home, but realise that my phone has died. I have to walk to King Street and use the phone box. On the way I pass Subway and can not resist going inside. Adrian is working, we talk and I order a Meatball Marinara sub. Adrian is proper cool, I had been wanting to see him. I think we made some plans for everyone going out some night, but my memory fails me. I walked up town and made this phone call to my dad. He is happy to give me a lift back, but surprised that my appointment was so short. While I am waiting for his car to turn up I eat my Sub, and it is truly the nicest Subway I have ever eaten in my life. Meatball Marinara, grilled with cheese, and with gherkins and olives, on what bread.
My Dad gets here, and I realise why he is so willing to give me a life. He sends me out of the car to go to Birds' and get him a sausage cob. And I am allowed to get myself something. I buy three chocolate mice; one brown, one white and one pink. I ate them while I was writing this. It took me a long time to write this. It is almost a novel. I think I should novelise it. It would be like the new Catcher in the Rye. Only not as lame as that particular book. People would actually like to read the story of my night out.