I have been struck down in the brime of live with a stinky cold. My nasal passages have shrunk to nothingness and a pressure mask is covering my entire face with snot. Even my hair and eyelashes hurt.
Obv, have been a brave soldier and struggled into New Work – and am currently annoying the shite out of my co-workers with a never ending cough and snot-fest and every word I utter seems to begin with a D or a B. My desk buddy – the one who looks like Keira Knightley, but without the fucking pout – has both called me a Germoid, and given me a sachet of Lemsip – but I’m sure I heard her mutter under her breath for me to shut-the-fuck-up. Or am I just paranoid?
I know I’m proper ill cause all I want is a thick white bread Marmite sandwich. So I’ve eaten the two I made this morning for my packed lunch already. And I now want a Double Decker. And some cherryaid. From Happy Shopper.
Other stuff to report. The rearranging of NickNackery is still consuming my every waking (and sleeping) hour. I have a snagging list of 101 jobs to do still - ranging from getting a window cleaner, swapping Doctors, buying some new lounge curtains (am thinking mocha coloured…), building the rest of the new bedroom furniture, buying some new plants pots, getting a new kettle, treating Boo to a new tool box and making the extractor fan in the kitchen work.
I’m off to see The Family this weekend. That’s the plan anyway. Hopefully I’ll be feeling less feeble in the morning, and will be able to get my gander up for the 2 hour journey. Am desperate for some Neice time, and The Sister and I are planning a Thai meal out tomorrow night with booze – so obviously am loath to miss that!
Next week brings a trip to see a New Work customer in Brighton called… wait for it… Pussy. (I love my job). The Mother of the Bride is coming over on Wednesday afternoon to wait in for the various workmen that are due to the flat to fix things. The upstairs heater, the dripping tap, the chugging tap etc etc. And next week Saturday The Girls are out for beautiful friend Lorrie’s birthday fandango. We are going to have a nice grown up meal at Sam’s in Chiswick, then get Pie-Eyed-Paullina’s at Revolution down the road on vodka jelly shots… Sunday is, as you all know, Mother’s Day, so the tradition of taking The Mother for posh afternoon tea continues, with a trip to The Landmark Hotel for some Taittinger Champagne and cucumber sandwiches. Heaven.
An update on The Rules. It’s all gone a bit to pot to be honest. I’ve just been waylaid with other stuff. I’ve been shocking about recycling all my rubbish. I’ve got to clear up my new rubbish area first – god knows what’s been left down there by the previous occupant – and then I can start again properly. My hands are all dry and poorly with all the scrubbing and storage box building and moving. I will try and moisturize them more often. I’ve bought lunch from the shop most days for the past couple of weeks – but in fairness that’s cause I’ve been emptying the old cupboards and haven’t had time to fill the new cupboards properly yet. I will do. At some point. The finger nails are shot to bits, so no need to paint them. Will be dealing with the toes this weekend. I’ve scrubbed the body, but not moisturized it. It takes too bloody long. I’m a bit snakeskinny at the moment really. Squash, give or take, is my drink of choice during the day. But I’ve been having lots of lovely Diet Coke at home. I love it. I refuse to stop drinking it. Even if it is burning my stomach lining away little by little. And I have pretty much stuck to the three a day coffee regime. I haven’t walked briskly for about 3 weeks. I’m rubbish and I just cant be fucking bothered. I can’t do the slimy lip balm thing either. It just feels horrible. I don’t know how people do it. I do eat at the table. Except of course, when I’m eating in bed, standing up in the kitchen or on my lap on the sofa. I haven’t been in M&S – but that’s just cause I’m skint. I’ve lost my food diary and the carbs have found me. Save £250 a month - are you kidding me?!!?! As for going on a date with Boo once a month. All I can say is… huh?
That’s it for today. Must crack on. Think of me, and my poorly bunged up sinus region. Send me a cake. Or a Double Decker. I thank you.