It has been a bit traumatic, to be fair, and it is only Saturday night.
Waking up this morning, I realised I wanted breakfast, which is a rare occurance now, and so I decided to skip out on a shower, scrape my hair back and wear a shitload of deodorant, as you do, so that I could cook what Nigella calls Doughnut French Toast and what I call Socially Acceptable Dessert For Breakfast.
It is essentially eggy bread, but with cinnamon and icing sugar on top, but I had run out of cinnamon, so it was just icing sugar this morning.
I then went to work.
This went fine, I came home with 6 books (a regular occurance) and a bustier (bit weird). It is black, with nice flowers on it, but I will only wear it over a blouse, which my manager thinks makes me a fuddy duddy.
This is the woman who:
-Cannot remember my age, despite the fact that it is the age of her daughter (my best mate) also.
-Thinks that shagging as many men as possible is the best route to getting over an ex (NOT the route I am taking. Prefer not to be slaggish).
-Wanted to piss in said Ex's mouthwash.
-Suggested I get a breast reduction.
That last one happened only this morning. Because a dress I tried on (it's an enforced thing with her) wouldn't do up on the top.
I was actually okay with this.
She, clealrly, was not.
Personally though, my bangers are one of my favourite bits.
They tie top with my eyes.
Anywho.
I came home after work, lots of comments on how tired I look (actually not tired, just not wearing foundation) to find the shower missing.
This upset me greatly.
I am going out tomorrow, and seeing "Adam".
I would quite like to wash my hair.
I am going to have to do it under the cold tap in the bath.
I am also going to have to do it at about eight o'clock in the morning.
Gah.
The things I do to not smell bad.
This should probably be tagged with "First World Problems".
I do realise that there are lots and lots of disadvantaged children who do not get clean water at all.
But they probably aren't reading this.
The Ex is still emailing me.
Lots of stuff about how sorry he is and how much he hopes I am going to be happy.
Ergh.
I may have to block him.
Oh hang on, the last time I wrote he had blocked me.
Yeah, he unblocked me.
This involved me screaming at him about how actually there were a LOT of shit moments in our relationship. He did ASK for more reasons why we couldn't go back out.
He also sent me an email with ten of the word "fuck" or it's variants thrown in.
I asked him not to send me emails if he couldn't do it without swearing.
Little shit sent me back the same email, but with all the swears deleted.
I was unimpressed.
So ensued me getting VERY angry.
He has sent me several emails since, one about unis and another couple.
I haven't answered, and I won't be.
And actually, if he ends up reading this, I'll request here and now that he stops sending me emails that make me want to cry my heart out, because I like my heart IN.
I am not freaking Davy Jones.
Not that I think he enjoyed the experience of having his heart cut out and stuck in a box, to be fair.
I think I am going to start ending every blog post with at least three things that make me happy, and I am going to make a massive list of them down one side of my blog, and they will ALL be different.
Things that make me happy today are:
-Pumped Up Kicks by Foster The People, but covered by Sophie Madeleine.
-Realising that I have accidentally matched my toenails to my undies.
-My Union Jack shoes.
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