I have been both poorly and busy. Which is not an ideal combination.
Christmas came at a very inconvenient time to be fair.
I managed to pick up a mean cold/cough type of bug and was laid out for a whole weekend. On the upside I got through lots of lovely television that I had recorded on the hard drive so it was a good use of time really.
When's all said and done though, I'd rather the snot monster went next door in future.
Anyway! It is a testament to what a good girl I am that I was very lucky at Christmas, Santa looked fondly on me.
In fact our whole house appeared to have been good all year judging by Santa's kindness.
All manner of lovely gifts had my name on them, I've been able to reduce the size of my wishlist somewhat and am very grateful!
I'm also planning to finally get some new tattoos done, which is quite exciting, although it'll take time as the tattooist is renowned for being booked up for ages and ages.
What am I saying? I'm really bloody excited about getting them done and talking to the tattooist about some designs I have in mind that I haven't been able to draw up myself.
I'm just taking a moment to jump up on my soapbox.
This morning I popped downstairs, remembering the men were coming to empty the bins and that I had several sacks of recycling in the boot that needed to go into my bins.
I ran downstairs and upon going outside realised that someone had moved my bins which I though was odd. Thinking little more of it, I opened the boot and took out the sacks. I hauled them to my bins. Opened my bins, which I knew to be virtually empty and discovered them to be full to the brim. It's just bloody rude. Everyone has their own bin, so why the hell do they think they have the right to fill mine up too? I hope they get nits. And other itchy ailments, preferably ones I won't catch. They're going on the list.
But seriously, how hard is it to knock on my door and ask if I mind them shoving all their crap in my bins. Maybe I should give them a key so they can use my fridge if they run out of room in theirs?
I've just finished reading The Llama Parlour by Kathy Lette.
What I most regret is that I'll never get back the time I wasted on that book.
What I also regret is that I am also hating the current book I'm reading, but after 300 pages I still feel an obligation to finish it, despite the fact the central characters are two of the most shallow women I've ever read about. There were a few funny lines at the beginning, but now I just hope it bucks a trend and there's a terribly unhappy ending. I can but hope.
I need some fire bricks so that I can put a grate in my fireplace, so that I can make kindling from these 'novels'.
As a belated Christmas gift to the world I am giving you these:
I admit I have a celebrity crush on Adam Savage. I can't help it. He makes me laugh!
And that has to be my favourite explosion.
Now I have to think about New Years Resolutions......