Monday 11th August 2014
Weight: doesn’t matter. Have decided that worth is not tied to numbers on scale. Fat test is now whether or not I can tie own shoelaces. At the moment can, so v. good. Cigarettes smoked: nil. Haven’t smoked since 1994. Tell people I am allergic to Nicotine but it is because I don’t know how to inhale properly.
Monday. This is not good. Mental boss being particularly mental and clueless as usual. Only ray of light poking into my day is work (and IRL) friend B. Decide the only way to distract myself from shouting at someone is to eat my feelings and sent 37 bitchy emails entitled ‘WTF’. This helps.
18.15 pm Get home and remember I finished my book last night. Hence bags under eyes and less than regulation 8 hours sleep. Hence bad mood. Realise I have Bridget Jones 3: Mad About The Boy on the ‘to read’ pile so feel a bit happier. Hmm, but also have I Capture The Castle which is a classic and will make me look cleverer on the bus.
Realise never take bus and anyway, need a dose of Bridge as she is v. funny. Decide overusing Fielding‘s ‘v.good’ signature phrase makes me look lazy so vow to leave this alone for rest of review.
20.38 pm Must start book but have recently discovered Nurse Jackie on Netflix. Netflix was invented by the devil, wasn’t it?
21.41 pm Laugh out loud for solid minute at Gwyneth Goop pisstaking. Brilliant brilliant brilliant.
Tuesday 12 August 2014
Weight: look I told you, none of your beeswax. Punnets of cherries consumed: 2. Number of times strained eyebrow muscles by rolling eyes too vigorously over the desk divider at B: 12. Number of times considered flipping desk violently and telling Stupid Boss to stick her job: 3.
08.09 am Husband leaves while I am brushing my teeth. Says he will be at the Barbara when I get in having his beard groomed (barber). Makes Night of the Living Dead reference as front door slams. Married right guy.
09.00 am Get to work and talk about Robin Williams who has passed away. Facebook is awash with tribute posts about the man most of us grew up with. Feel sad. Vow to watch Patch Adams this weekend.
09.14 am Boss already cursing behind computer screen. I decide best course of action is to zone out and not give her attention. Think about Mad About The Boy and how touching it is. Imagine what my life would be like if I were in a similar sitch. Decide, like Bridge, not to dwell.
09.15 am Remember line about Gwynnie and chuckle to myself for another minute.
09.24 am Is it home time yet?
09.25 am Have eaten all morning snack supplies already. Will be hula hooping this evening for three hours at this rate.
10.46 am Irrationally angry. Rant over email to B for five minute. Feel better.
11.50 am Can someone pay me to blog inanely with no real focus from home in my pants please?
11.59 am Tweet stuff about Boss then get paranoid. Leaving trail of outrage across social media not very profesh. Decide don’t care. Think about Bridge’s foray into social networking and it cheers me up. Can’t wait to get back home and read my evening away. Vow not to turn on TV at all when get home from work.
20.06 pm Get annoyed with Mr Bee as he wants to watch a Zombie/Vampire hybrid tv show called Strain. Get annoyed about the name of show as it puts me in mind of something disgusting. Agree but tell Mr Bee must be in bed by 9.30 as Bridget is waiting for me.
21.22pm Get to bed with eight minutes to spare. Pre-empt seduction by mentioning tiredness and reading.
21.38pm Am crying. Hard. Mascara did not remove before bed falls into eyes. Bridget grieving is a very powerful thing. Ah, but have also caught up with Daniel Cleaver. Not all doom and gloom.
Wednesday 13th August 2014
Weight: pffffffffffffffffffffffffft. Number of bums shouting “Fuck!” repeatedly outside window at 4.30am this morning: 2. Number of times consider bucket of cold water out of window onto street below: 3 (twice for bums, once for flock of seagulls – not the eighties band).
10.25 am Let’s not talk about work again, shall we?