EmFlem's blog

It's Friday AGAIN?

So yeah, what's bin happenin peeps? Not a right lot.

I went to a party last Saturday and got drunk and... well, remember the drunken secrets a couple of weeks back? I managed to blab one of the drunken secrets - not because I was drunk or even because I thought I was doing the right thing but because I was being jealous and selfish. And it's pretty horrible to realise that. Especially cos me and Mr. Secrets were getting on sooooo soooooooo soooo well and really getting thick as thieves and now I've totally wrecked it with my own stoopidness. Stoopid stoopid. I am not as mean and nasty as I was, say, 10 years ago but I guess it reminded me I can still be mean and nasty somewhere deep down inside still. Something to watch out for. BIG SAD FACE. And I forced the birthday girl to open her present before her actual birthday, thus blowing years of tradition. I was hugely mean that night, everything I did was mean! I wonder what happened? Maybe it's because the evening started so weirdly - I went into work first to pick up the heels I wanted to wear and I set off the alarm. I didn't notice cos I had my headphones on ear-bleedingly loud, merrily got into my office, wrote the birthday card, went down to the loo and put my make-up on etc and came back to two frankly terrifying security guards who accused me of being the intruder (we thought we had an intruder before Xmas who was sleeping here) and then practically escorted me from the premises. Super embarrassing and threw me out a bit. Or maybe it was just that prosecco in combination with gin and Chambord makes me mean, who knows? Anyway, I am sorry for it, and I hope Mr. Secrets knows I am. I think he does.

Oscar's had a minging cold and his eyes are all puffy and sore - my childminder suspects conjunctivits so he's down at the docs with my in-laws getting checked out. I did think it was just a cold making his eyes gunky, but someone just came into my office and said 'my god! what's happened to your eye?' so now I'm like... oh, bollox. At least, I suppose, it is this week and not the first week of my new job, which is front-facing so having a massive weeping eye would be a total disaster. But yeah, Karmic retribution in the form of an eye infection, thanks universe, jeebus I learned my lesson, isn't that enough? (UPDATE: okay so I checked with the in-laws and the doc doesn't think it's conjunctivitis. I just have a psychosomatic puffy eye, I guess.)

I've not been up to much cos next week is my last week at work so I've been trying to just make sure everything is okay here. I know I shouldn't worry about it but I do. I like it here and I don't want to let anyone down. Ak, so hard. I realised this morning I haven't even stayed in post for a year, thank God I'm not actually moving overall workplace or my CV would look well shoddy. I don't think I'll have a leaving do (the capacity for getting drunk, crying and making a complete and utter arse of myself is too great) so I've been mumbling about maybe having lunch next Friday and then taking the afternoon off. I've mumbled it to way too many people now though. Oh God, I just want to slink off and have them all forget I ever existed.

ALSO another thing I have been doing is forging ahead with this whole 'being a writer' thingy. I'm going to be reading at The Poetry Cafe with some of the other folk from my writing group on March 25th. It's all over facebook like a rash so 'request an invite 'or whatever it is if you'd like to come along. I am kind of excited at the moment cos it was fun doing the flyer and everything but I know when it comes down to it I will be super nervous. I'm not reading poetry, I'm reading just some er, stuff. Not even short stories really, just stuff. I may possibly read an extract from the postmodern chick lit murder mystery campus novel, but it is only a possibility. Don't get over excited!

I sound a bit grumpy and miserable, but actually I've been in a really good mood the past day or so. I haven't had a drink since the aforementioned party. I think we all know what this means. God I hate it when boys medical professionals are right. Of course, it might just be that this week me and Chaunce have sat down and watched The Lavender Hill Mob and Passport to Pimlico and I've really enjoyed them. That man has good taste in movies. That man has good taste full stop.

When I start my new job I guess this blog is going to fall by the wayside again, although I can get online at home so maybe not. I do appear to be just writing the first thing that comes into my head and I'm not sure how helpful that actually is! I will think of an actual theme to the next post. Probably.

  

I can't believe

I'm keeping up with blogging every Friday - go me. I'm actually taking the day off work today for complex bureacratic annual leave reasons (got to love working in higher education) but as my childminder had to take Monday off cos her boy was poorly she's doing today to make up. WAHOO!!! A day all to myself and I am... blogging.

I just tried my new route to work from hers and it took a while. An hour, in fact. But I am going to see this as a positive. Two hours (there and back) all to myself to read or write or listen to music or do all three. Or maybe sleep. That should only be for three days a week though cos my MiL is picking up the slack for the other two days. I know I should put him in a nursery but unlike my childminder they won't do ad hoc hours and... oh I don't know, my inherent mistrust of authority puts me off. He can sort of make himself understood to me, the childminder and my friends and family but I think he would be a bit lost with more than 5 other children. He does go to playgroup and children's centres (with me and the childminder) but he likes to stick close to whoever he went there with - I mean he's not even two yet, I don't think that's weird. The childminder has her son every day and at least one other child so it's not like he doesn't know how to share. He's quite good at sharing, quite sweet with proferring his toys to other children if they're looking a bit upset.

Maybe this should be an Oscar blog? I'll make a list of words he can say/sign (actually he doesn't sign without also using the word) cos it'll be lovely to look back on. By 'say' I mean 'make a noise that we can understand'. He can't say 'B' (so 'bye!' comes out as 'die!' somewhat unconcertingly) or 'S' (he uses 'H' for 'S') or 'T' (he uses 'hard C'.) I should put them in alphabetical order but I can't be arsed. Anyway:

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Mummy; Daddy; Nanny; Dandan; Sam; Lily; Thomas; Oscar; monkey; silky; train; train tracks; tunnel; engine; digger; tractor; car; plane; boat; trolley; up; down; carry; run; pushchair; hot; cold; hair; hands; ears; eyes; nose; mouth; teeth; tummy; cheeks; neck; knees; toes; eat; dinner; spoon; kitchen; cot; door; bubbles; sand; outside; there; chair; milk; more; finished; sweeties; banana; cheese; toast; carrot; cake; telly; penguin; star; moon; book; cat; coat; hat; shoes; orange; yellow; red; love; you; mine; tower; biscuit; sign; home; one; two; three; nappy; clean; jump; tickle; peek a boo;
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He can't actually recognise colours (everything is yellow) and I'm sure I've forgotten some, that's just off the top of my head. He's just beginning to put words together - 'Oscar's chair', 'Daddy's hat' etc. He knows most of the animal noises - cows say moo and so on. The important thing is there is much less second guessing now, so there are less tantrums and confused tears, he only seems to cry now when he's tired (kiss. of. death.) But he's lovely. I'm so aware I'm not going to have full days with him in three weeks time (er, so I'm not with him today? What? But I am a bit ill, I'm on antibiotics for an ear infection and the house looks like a bin so I need to try and tidy up a bit...) so I've been trying to do lots with him. Yesterday after Sing n Sign we took the tube to town and had lunch with one of my friends who'd not seen him in ages and he was just an angel. Very very excited by the train and lapping up all the attention like a little movie star, everyone wanted to know how old he was and if we needed any help and oh, it was really good. So proud of him. He rocks. 

 

Friday blog

Oh dear, I totally forgot I said I would blog every week. I have no idea what I'm going to say, so I will blog by numbers. It'll be quite Old Skool. In more ways than one!

 

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Last Thurs

Went out for drinks with work. One drink. Ummmmm... Yeah. The problem was people kept telling me loads of important and really quite serious secrets and so I couldn't exactly just wander away. People think they're perfectly safe telling me drunken secrets because they assume I'm so drunk I'll forget, which is unfortunately not the case. I retain everything that doesn't mean a thing to me (including other people's secrets) and forget the things that would be useful, such as whether I have now learned to say 'I love you' or 'how are you?' in Arabic.* If only I'd also learned 'two beers please' and 'where are the toilets?' I would consider myself fluent. I ended up sitting on my frolleague's kitchen floor drinking sparkling wine (sparkling wine?!) at like, midnight or something. Chaunce was going on hols at 6am the next day so I said I'd be in by 8. I got in at maybe, hrrrmmmm, 1am.

Last Fri

Chaunce was away so I combatted my fear of being alone by inviting some of my best mates round. ERROR. This meant that at 4am I was still dealing with drunken secrets, although I must admit it was quite nice to just hang out and be me and not someone's mum/wife/colleague/etc. To not be anyone but a drunken Northern girl, which is what I am, at the end of the day. I did have a good time. BUT 4AM?! When you have to get up at 7am at the very latest? No.

Saturday

Went out for breakfast with the lads I'd seen the night before. Dropped down into Streats to see my mummy friends (both of whom are pregnant) and on the way back got caught in a snowstorm. Lovely. Went to bed at like, midnight or something, because Chaunce wasn't there to make me go earlier.

Sunday

Mooched about feeling lonely and maudlin, like you do after you've been drinking and your husband's gone away and left his wedding ring behind. Watched The Wedding Singer and cried in appropriate places. He eventually (my husband, not the wedding singer) got in about 1am, and I'd stayed up for him, like a dick. But I was glad I did.

Monday

Went to work. Did work, I assume.

Tuesday

Holy shit, I thought I was going to die. Woke up hot n pukey n generally awfully. Eventually persuaded Chaunce to come home about 2pm at which point I had a scalding hot bath and went to bed. Woke up feeling a lot better.

Wednesday

Went to work, did more work. OH! Managed to make a really hugely embarrassing cock up the second I got through the door but I don't think anyone important heard so... we cool. I really hope, anyway.

Thursday

Realised this was my third to last Thurs with Osc on our own. Went to Sing n Sign, then off to see preggers friend again (she's feeling a bit down so I am trying to keep her spirits up.) Then I took Osc out for lunch, just the two of us. We had pasta, spinach, tomatoes, basil, cheese - it was really nice. He is such a little dude, sitting there, eating his food in a proper chair. I took him to stay n play in the afternoon and he played in the sand, which is the first time he's ever dared play without me next to him. Tres proud!

Friday

Got a bit drunk at lunchtime, blogged.

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So there you are, un blog. Don't say I don't keep my promises!

 

 

* Technically there is Someone I could ask but I feel bursting into an office and shouting 'I LOVE YOU!' or possibly 'HOW ARE YOU?!' in Arabic is maybe not the best note to leave this job on.

 

"You gotta roll with the flow, wherever it goes...*

This is accidentally a massive blog, I think I needed to vent. I would make a cup of tea if I were you.

I'm at work on a Thursday AGAIN because Chaunce is off on a jaunt this weekend, so he won't be around tomorrow and therefore I'm doing the childcare. However this week it is not screwing with my social life because there are drinks tonight and I can go - hurrah! Even though I am meant to be 'not drinking'. God, I'm useless at it. But I want to drink to celebrate MY NEW JOB! WHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I have a new job (um, subject to refs) at a different site but still here with the university. Obviously. I think we may as well face it that once it sucks you in you can't get out. We Love Big Brother. Some people commute for miles and miles and miles (and miles and miles, really) just to get here. I know people who have worked here 40+ years. Seriously! People are mad. Including me, it would seem.

I never thought I had (or wanted) a career. I mean I'm not the sort of person who decided they would be an astronaut when they were, like, six or something and then dedicated their whole life to becoming an astronaut (what if you did that and then as you were out spacewalking you suddenly thought 'actually, shit, I think I'd rather be a lorry driver...' ?) Now and again I think I want to be a vicar but then I remember I hate organised religion and it's just that I'd love to live in an old vicarage. That's the closest I come to a vocation.

Then I had a really bloody awful time at work before Xmas and I realised durrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, actually there is something I want to do. I want to work in education and although I am technically doing that there is no undergraduate teaching here and as I moan on in all my previous blog posts - I miss the students. Who misses students for God's sake?! But I do.

Most of you know why I left uni and even if you don't you still know that I left sans degree and had a real Lost Weekend for 18 months. That shouldn't have happened (although you know, thank God it did because otherwise blah blah blah blah blah no Oscar.) But it shouldn't have happened. I should have known where to go and been able to talk to someone, anyone about my options. I didn't really understand I could defer. I didn't really understand I could take replacement finals. I didn't really understand anything. Academically I was amazing, fantastic. But when it came down to actually living I was bloody useless (it's A Different Kind Of Intelligence as my husband likes to say. It has become a mantra in our office. It's A Different Kind Of Intelligence.) I still am pretty useless but at least I've got it together enough to run a house and keep a job. I could barely even dress myself when I was at uni. Once I handed an essay in still in my nightie.

So my new job is in Student Support. There's a relatively new resource here for the students where they can go with any problems outside of academia. Little things like sorting out their council tax and bigger things like issues with immigration etc. Before those things were sorted ad hoc by the school office for their particular programme. It's what I was doing before but with the reception duties and the coursework taken out of the equation, which suits me fine.

I - hmmm. I... There is a lot I want to say but I can't quite get it straight in my head. Stuff about the job I'm in now and how it really doesn't suit me at all and about how clichés only become clichés because they're true and all manner of things I'm still not clear about. I think maybe I need to wait until I've actually left and the dust has settled a bit. I feel so happysad. I am incredibly proud of myself - this is a Grade 5 postion I am moving to from a Grade 3 which I had previously been told 'would never happen'. The interview was fairly hard going (me: [wearing jeans, heels and a smart jacket] is there a dress code? interview panel: [as one] NO JEANS!) and the test was difficult, although it was good it was difficult because I knew I'd done it right. When I started here the test was so disarmingly easy I thought it was a trick, a sort of psychological thing (it is the Institute of Psychiatry after all. At the time I hadn't fully grasped I would be working in neurology and not psychiatry. Me: what's the difference? Someone At Work: well, you know astronomy and astrology...?) So yeah, the selection process was tough and I am well chuffed I aced it.

But by the same token I will miss the team I work with so much, and I will especially miss L who shares my office because she is funny and clever and has put up with me for almost a year without throttling me and god knows I have actually needed throttling at times. I've never shared an office with just one person before and it could have been a massive disaster, but it's worked brilliantly. And of course there is also Someone At Work that I'll miss though he's not quite as tied to his office as we are cos he's a bit(!) higher up and I expect I will be able to catch up with him from time to time. Plus we're facebook friends. And my god it will be such a relief to be operating on the same sort of level as him. Even though, yeh, I will be Grade: Five and he is still Grade: A Billionty, at least no-one will call me a secretary any more. Not that I ever was a secretary - certainly I wasn't his secretary - but it appears to be a hazard of this particular job, maybe cos it's tied to the hospital so firmly, who knows. Anyway, me? A secretary? Ahahahahahahahaha! Hahahaha! Hoooooooooo... Can you think of a job I would be less suited to?

In conclusion: I think I might just have refound my mojo. It's a bit dusty. But it's still workin.

 

 

* ... and it's a-rollin outta here."

Very, very quickly

I'm at work on a Thursday rather than Friday this week and it's weirding me out (and totally ruining my social life.)

So, as promised, here I am again. I have so so much to blather on about but I'll save that til next week (and a lunchtime.)

Yesterday we all went a bit mad and tidied "the study room" which is no longer anything even approaching a study room, but is in fact an office. We found 'an anthology of poems by doctor poets'. My GP when I was very tiny wrote poetry (the surgery was in his house? Maybe? In a house, anyway and he kept bees, I remember going there in high summer and looking at the weird hives on the lawn) and wouldn't you know it if I didn't flip open the book straight to one of his. I was dumbfounded, I thought he self published. His name was S. L. Henderson Smith which really is a doctors name, isn't it? The poem is called Face at the Window but that's not the one I reproduce here. It felt nice and 'meant to be' to see ol' Henderson Smith again, so I asked the Cosmic Joker to show me a sign while s/he/it was in the mood. I am desperately in need of A SIGN at the moment. Or I was.

In the same book another poem by Paul Fleming sung out to me from the contents page because, well, Fleming, hello? I cut and paste it for your edification below. (The book also has it in the original German but I couldn't be bothered to find that online and I really don't have time to type it out.)

--------------------------------
To Myself

Let nothing make thee sad or fretful,

Or too regretful;

Be still;

What God hath ordered must be right;

Then find in it thine own delight,

My will.

Why shouldst thou fill today with sorrow

About tomorrow.

My heart?

One watches all with care most true;

Doubt not that he will give thee too

Thy part.

Only be steadfast; never waver,

Nor seek earth's favor,

But rest:

Thou knowest what God's will must be

For all his creatures, so for thee,

The best.
--------------------------------

 

Gotta love that Cosmic Joker, eh?! Okay, God, I get the point. But I am so impatient. So many things in my life are ABOUT to happen (or not happen, as the case may be.) I really just want to get to the stage where I know what's going on. I find it so hard to just trust and be still and know everything will be fine. But I am going to try.

 

Paul Fleming told me to. 

What ho chaps!

Alright. Right. Reet. Okay, listen. I'm going to come back. Properly come back honestly honestly. Back to the blogging fold (the blfold? the blold? oh never mind.) Every Friday (okay, more sensibly, every other Friday) I will provide for you lucky people a brand new blog post. I one hundred per cent promise. Fo' real.

Here are my reasons (I have been re-reading High Fidelity so at the moment I can only think in lists):

a) I think it is good for my writing. You'd think it would detract from it but actually I think the more you write the more you write. You know? And as I get older this is something that is becoming more and more important to me. I am probably going to be reading at a Spoken Word night on March 25th (more details nearer the time - I still might back out...) and although I know the piece I want to read I've since realised it needs completely re-writing. So I need to get back into the saddle, as it were. Surely this will be the year I get published? Surely? SURELY? Technically I've already had something accepted but it's been going on for almost a year now and I've almost given it up as a bad job.

b) I think it is good for my mental health. I went back to counselling before Xmas (partly as an hysterical over reaction to Point C, below) but I've quit again. It was a bit rubbish. Not as rubbish as the counsellor at uni who thought I was sleeping around for self-validation (er, no, I am 19 and beautiful and I can and you can't and you're jealous, I believe was my response. Although, yeah, she probably had a point) and DEFINITELY not as useless as the counsellor I saw at work who suggested I might be bipolar because I both giggled and sobbed throughout our first session. I just found it amusing and embarrassing that my boss had referred me and I was nervous and so I laughed. But anyway, yeah, before Xmas counselling was a bit rubbish. So I quit. It was on the NHS and I was stealing someone else's time, someone more deserving and with less middle class angst. That's how it made me feel, anyway, which didn't help. And it's a shame cos the other counsellor that I saw before at my docs (who's since quit - I'll assume it wasn't me...) was really really good. But then, I actually had a bona fide issue to work through then. Whereas before Xmas I was just run down and trying to fit a full time job into part time hours (since fixed) AND be a brilliant wife and mother (since realised that's impossible but I am quite good at it so cut me some slack) AND move house (we have now moved) and it just got a bit much.

So yeah, I think blogging is good for my mental health cos when things are a bit much you can vent. Plus you can look back to life previously being a bit too much and see that you got over it. Embarrassing though it may be. Plus people can leave you comments suggesting you get. over. yourself.

aaaaaaaaand,

c) Someone At Work thinks that I should. And as most of you know, if Someone At Work (this is rather delightfully old skool blogging isn't it? I've stepped back from actually turning it into an acronym so give me some credit. Anyway, if Someone At Work) also told me to meet him in the canteen at 3pm with my knickers on my head my only question would be 'wait, the canteen in your building, or in mine?' (Yes, I know. Believe me I am looking for a new job, before someone from The Maudsley clocks me sitting in the canteen with my knickers on my head and I get sectioned.)

So. Yeah. Anyways. I'm back. I think.

I'm back.

A very quick post

to say a) I am actually still alive and b) I am still reading you guys (tho mostly on my tiny mobile screen so I can never be arsed to comment.)

We spent Xmas up North where it snowed like billy-o and Chaunce got completely over-excited about it and I was grumpy cos it meant we couldn't go anywhere. Then we came back down here for New Year and had a wee partay and it was lovely and nice. I took Osc to the Aquarium the next day ON MY OWN *cough cough* and we were the first in and it was brilliant (although the escalator did chew up my buggy wheel which was a bit scary. It doesn't matter now though cos it was our cheapy replacement buggy which I got for a swapped train ticket and we don't need it now as we sent our Silver Cross back for repair and now - well, as you can see, this is why I no longer blog about anything. Ever. Anyway, here's a picture of them in the snow - how excited does he look?!)

 

 

 

XmasNY09 005

I did a lot of drinking over Xmas (really a lot, even for me) and I've knocked it on the head for January (well, barring a glass of wine and half a lager) which I grudgingly admit has definitely made a difference overall to my entire friggin life (me: what I don't understand is why I always cry when I get drunk? prof: um, because alcohol is a depressant? me: no! is it really just that?! no! it can't be... It bloody is though.)

I took Oscar Bear to the barbers yesterday for his first real proper man's haircut (dude used the clippers and everything!) and he was very good and I am very proud. Oh! And we've already been in an ambulance this year for a rather frightening croup incident at half past midnight last Wednesday (the Wednesday with all the crazy snow.) But he is fine. They didn't actually do anything at the hospital (unlike our usual trips with nebulizers and steroids and all that stuff.)

Two of my friends are pregnant with their second baby (friends I made when we were all pregnant/new mums together.) I can't work out if I am insanely jealous or if I think they are bonkers. Bonkers is just winning out at the moment.

How are you guys anyway?

 

My work Outlook

is having some sort of crisis and refusing to work, so I thought I'd just come along here and see how we're all doing. Hey you guys! How are you? I am fine thank you.

So, stuff that is happening, firstly and most excitingly we are pretty much moved in to our new place. It is odd what you will put up with when you are renting, certainly when you are renting in London. The new place is like some sort of magical fabulous dream. Here are some of the things that I can't actually believe about it:

The hot tap runs hot.
The cold tap runs cold.
The taps all turn in an intuitive direction (three years I lived in the old place and I still got soaked everytime I turned the kitchen tap on.)
The lights all work.
The outside light works.
There are curtains! In each room!
There is no 'knack' to opening the front door. Or any of the doors, for that matter.
There are pictures on the wall. Hideous pictures, but they are steadily being replaced by our own pictures.
The shower works.
The clicker on the oven works.
The light in the oven works.
The radiators all work.
There is an airing cupboard.
There are window boxes and a teeny teeny raised bed by the front door.
There are stairs. STAIRS!! To the two double bedrooms. TWO BEDROOMS!

Other stuff that is happening:

Oscar is still not well, I think he really is asthmatic and won't grow out of it, but the docs still don't want to say when he is so small. Thinking of taking him to a proper asthma drop in clinic.

I have wasted a hell of a lot of money on myself this month (a hell of a lot) and now I am in a stress about money. But I guess as long as I don't buy anything at all for the next couple of months it'll even up.

I am doing stuff at work that is really interesting and in fact quite good fun but... BUT... I am only a Grade Three and this is going way out of my payscale. But how else would I get the experience? And they did mention it in the interview and I did say it was okay. And anyway I'm not going to stick at this forever. And I'm enjoying myself. So why am I moaning? I don't know! I'm not really moaning. I'm more saying 'look how clever and trusted I am.' I think. I am really really unconfident at work for some weird reason. Oh well. i am just generally feeling a bit uncertain of my own abilities at the moment.

A blog

I've been archiving my 20six blog, on and off, for a while now, so I've been reading and not writing. Also I am ashamed to say that at one point I wrote 'I am 23 and impressed with someone being in a band. Sad.' I am 29 and, uh, still totally impressed by people being in bands.

So stuff wot has happened...

I am moving house, from SW to SE and I am kind of happy because I think the new place is fabola and everything (it's a HOUSE! with a GARDEN!) but also kinda sad because I'm leaving Streats. Even though it's only a 15 minute walk away. I pick up the keys this eve. Wowzer. Never. Moving. Again, by the way, although these new estate agents have been really great.

I am gonna do NaNoWriMo again this year cos I have a totally stonking chick-lit-murder-mystery-campus-novel which really needs to get out of my subconscious before I go bonkers.

Oscar is a genuis (Uh. Genius. I mean. I can't believe I just mistyped that.) apparently, according to his Sing n Sign teacher but really it's just that he's about 5 months older than all the other babies in the class so he is more able. Still his childminder also said he was good for his age, as he can say 'digger', 'swing' etc. I mean WHAT?! He's never said that to me. He's never even said 'Mummy.' Kids are weird.

Work is uh... work is... work will look good on my CV once I've left. And I am committed to at least another year, I think. The people are great, the job is okay, but I miss the students so hard. I miss the structure of the academic year as well, this is much more like working somewhere 'proper'. Ha! That looks awful. Oh you know what I mean. I don't actively dislike being here. In fact often I totally love it.  Although one of my many bosses (one of the ones who isn't actually my boss although he totally is my boss really) is at least aware this isn't my 'proper' job (my 'proper' job being swanning around being an arty dick, although obviously that isn't really my 'proper' job either. My 'proper' job is being a mum, I suppose. I don't want to do that full time either though! Oh what do I want? When am I going to know what I want to do/be when I grow up?! When am I going to grow up?)

I'm not drinking. Again. Which is working out for me, actually.

Oh, I know what happened, we went on a BRILLIANT holiday that was BRILLIANT and one day (when I'm not at work and have an hour or so to myself) I will actually put the pics on Facebook.

I... nothing interesting is happening to me right now! My 20six blog is very high drama. Do I miss the drama? At least I kept a record.

I wasn't always this boring.

No.

QotD: Can't Resist...

What's one thing you can't say no to?

Temptation. But you guys knew that already!