Item – I am ill. I have a bad sore throat and sinus-ache and headache and general disinclination to get out of bed. H is being Chief Nurse Wonderful, but confessed his own throat was feeling scratchy this evening. Oh joy.
Item – My mother, on hearing that I was planning to do acupuncture, yay, verily, had even chosen a clinic, decided that no no no I had to go to her clinic, to do magic special acupunture the Harley Street way. Hurrah, she’s offering to pay. Boo, because I don’t want her bloody alternative practitioners anywhere near me, with their seaweed yoghurt enemas and raisin diets. She swears this isn’t that sort of clinic, but I know her wiley ways of old, and I am Reluctant with a capital R, because neither do I wish to be sold eighteen-thousand hideously expensive herbal and vitamin supplements. The clinic H had researched merely stabbles you with needles, and that is all I ask of any acupuncturist, Harley Street or local high street.
Item – My mother is a control-freak. I am a control-freak. I think I should control my infertility treatment and reproductive equipment because they’re, you know, mine, and she thinks she should control them because she made them. I am very tempted to add something bitchy here about the wonderful job she did of it too, but I shan’t, because Karma is always listening.
Item – Oookay, the weight-loss stall has officially pissed me off. We are stepping up the lunacy. Pass me the kitchen scales, for I must weigh my pecans. I ate several pieces of toast today, because from tomorrow I shan’t be touching bread for a fortnight. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we diet.
Item – Had a long chat with H about how amazingly bloody depressed we both are, and we vowed to spend more time on our hobbies and enthusiasms, before we turn into two little heaps, one of phlegm and one of black bile. Whereapon I promptly bought another note-book (I own dozens of note-books) if for no other reason than because it was small enough to fit in my back pocket. Now, if I actually write in it as well…
Item – And perhaps I will fish my head out of my fundament and get back to blog-reading and commenting like a functional well-brought-up and properly socialised blogger, and stop lurking, sulking, and wallowing in self-pity.