'what the hell is that banging,' thought i, at 4am this morning, as i surfaced from a dream about the date giving a friend of mine a masonic handshake. the banging turned out to be the cat, which had somehow got herself shut in the living room. by the time i had let her out and returned to bed i was wide awake, natch (which, by the way, is a word i have banned from my magazine!).
so, spent the next couple of hours
seething at my sister for locking HER cat in the living room
fretting about how much i have to do today and how tired i'm going to be
wondering about what to wear
worrying about the date and the weekend (we aren't spending it together)
trying to be calm, and at one with the universe and all the great things in it
i finally got up at 6am and had coffee. went to the gym to do my legs but was pressganged into a boxing class as demonstration model for someone i used to train with. which i didn't mind at all UNTIL HE GAVE ME PINK BOXING GLOVES!
i ended up doing bare knuckle boxing - you should see my fists, they are very manly!
got to work full of the joys of spring at 9am.
by 9.20am the joys of spring had been ripped from me, chewed up and spat out, replaced by an acute bout of misanthropy and irritation.
this was caused mainly by trying to book a doctor's appointment for 2 weeks' time, when i have a day off.
the earliest appointment i could get was five weeks away. so i now have to 'just turn up' at 8.30am one morning and they'll give me an appt for that day.
which is patently ridiculous, as i pointed out to the stepford wife receptionist.
thank god it's the weekend.
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1 comment:
Words of advice from one who has platform elevated, external perspective. If your date reads this blog, stop obsessing about him in writing. No, really, it must be scary.
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