Saturday 21st January. Boring………

I’m well bored.

Still suffering from ‘Yuletidespendyitis’, I have even less wedge than I normally do. Bearing in mind that my kids think that ‘they’re eating good tonight’ when I splash out on a £5 meal deal from Tesco, the fact that I’ve been serving up cat-food lately probably gives you some idea of how we’re ‘rolling’ round here at the moment.

What’s a girl to do to entertain herself?

Can’t go out anywhere.

Nothing interesting going on in the news that I can take the piss out of, well, Paul Daniels cut his finger off but since he’s made a career out of getting things to disappear, hardly Single-Mum-worthy.

Tried ringing Friend-Kate but she’s got toothache so all she did was moan about dentists, pain-killers and something to do with home remedies. Dunno, I’d zoned out by then.

I ended the call by shouting “Boring. Boring” into the receiver.

Not going to bother ringing Friend-Sophie. She’s still detoxing so anything she’s likely to have been up to will involve chick-peas or root vegetables or some crap.

Texted Friend-Karen, she’s usually good for a cocaine fuelled, binge-drunken tale of catastrophic woops-ness that more often than not culminate with her being on bail in some foreign land.

She texted back to say she’s in love with some cattle-wrangler she met in Houston.

They’re buying a lakeside home in Texas.

Sheesh.

Lay on my bed with my legs pointing at the ceiling for a bit.

A strange bird flew past my window.

In the movies, my current situation is what’s commonly used as the ‘departure point’.

You know, when the heroine has managed to get herself into some kind of financially induced life-rut that looks completely hopeless and insurmountable and yet a peculiar turn of events turn out to be a gripping, life and death adventure that ends up with her marrying the man of her dreams whilst simultaneously becoming famous, wealthy and with much better hair and make-up than she had at the beginning.

Anyway, dreams of being mistaken for a Hollywood movie star and kidnapped by a black transit van aside, I think I’ll take the dog for a walk.

Who knows, maybe I’ll get run over.

Fingers crossed.

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