The latter half of the title refers to moi, I should point out, not my Cellmate. Although I have worn nothing floozilicious in ever so long. Le sigh. Still, Woo! The weekend beckons! The long, long slog is nearly over!
I even got a late lie and a lift in today – my cellmate has decided to kindly donate me all her spare cardboard so I can re-start the composting Properly, so she said she’d run me in and then home again. I really need to do something nice for her – she started collecting crisp-packets for me the first I ever told her about Walkers’ Rainy Days, and now this. I must think hard on a heartfelt gift that will be joyously received and not cost more than a fiver.
I also really need to take some goddamn exercise already; but probably not today. Because when I got home and shucked my rucksack, I was smitten by a pressure behind the eyeballs so strong that (for one horrible moment) I thought they actually would burst out of my head.
Woo The weekend is here! The long, long slog is over! And it looks like tonight, at least, might really, really suck. You gotta laugh.
So I cleaned the flat. Very carefully indeed, because failing to have my head as high as possible, or at leat, higher than any other part of my body, had horrible repercussions. Still, I ended the day with my eyeballs still in situ and sat down. Now, some Sums? Oh bugger the Sums, have I not suffered enough? Perhaps, a glass of mead and some music, that would be nice. And tomorrow – well, everything is to be done tomorrow.