I have some of the best friends in the world.
When I turn up at their house they can do just the right level of looking after. Enough distraction so you don’t have to think. Time to talk but not to dwell. And yummy dinner.
Thank you, you are amazing.
Bake off and sewing was apparently what was needed to remain a coherent human being.
I have a finished dress with pleats and everything.
I hate October.
It was a good sciency day.
A day to sleep, to be sad and be avoided.
It’s hard to know if it’s the poorlyness or something else.
Even she avoided me only willing to come once in bed.
No, I don’t want to listen to you.
No, I’m not appreciating the fact you woke me up.
Seriously go away. And please never return.
And the cat just sticks his tongue out at you.
In which box pleats were started, Thai green curry became cheesy spinachy leeky yum, and a very brave person became my saviour.
I had previously given her responsibilities that she had rejected, but she was able to remove the spider family.
The moment you feel like all hope is gone.
Do they just not have a clue?!? If that’s the case do we pay them for platitudes?