Urgh. That’s my review of this week. I’m not a massive fan of this slice of time so far – in the grand review of my life it will probably be forgotten, but regardless, it has distinctly underwhelmed me. I’m going to christen it the ‘one step forward, two steps back’ week. Every little thing that could go wrong, or be slightly inconvenient, has happened, and done a little jig at the same time. If I dropped a piece of toast right now, it would fall butter side down. In a house containing a hairy mammal (two, if you count Mort) the three second rule doesn’t really apply.
I think I am going through a run of bad luck. Not massive awful life changing disasters – just a seemingly endless stream of annoyances, irritants and ‘wouldn’t you just bloody know it’ incidences. You know those people that saunter through life, finding bank notes on the floor, with little bluebirds flying above their heads, bringing them roses and singing them a little song? Well that’s not me. I’m the person who gets caught in the rain as they saunter through life, tread in dog poo, trip over my shoelaces, have a bird poo on my head, get back to my car to find I’ve got a parking ticket and realise my flies have been undone the whole time. At least, that’s the way it feels right now. Add a hefty helping of PMT and a headache that has lived in my brain like Gollum for the past three days and, I’m not going to lie, I’ve been in better moods.
I think I scared the man at the local shop yesterday. I pulled up outside, brakes screeching to a halt, and stormed through the swinging door like a woman possessed. I collected together a host of items that screamed simultaneously ‘I’ve had a bad day’ and ‘No it’s not because I’m hormonal, how bloody dare you’: chocolate, sweets, cakes (the holy trinity) cheese and a lottery ticket. I think the shopkeeper knew better than to say ‘Cheer up love! It might never happen’.
So I’m sat on my sofa surrounded by anything containing sugar that I could get my grubby little mitts on, with my little boy on my lap. I think he is my friend now – we had words earlier as he refused to come inside, so I shut the door on him, and didn’t let him in for five minutes. Did you know Dachshunds can glare? If looks could kill…
He sauntered back inside, and jumped up next to Dan. Dan jokingly said: “See, I’ve always been his favourite!” At which point, Mort put a chubby little paw on his leg, and turned to look at me with a face that said: “HA. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!”
We’re ok now though. I think. Dan explained to him what PMT is, they had a little laugh about women, I ate the best part of an entire bag of Dairy Milk buttons, and now we’re all ok.