Slut

You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to shuffle everything out of the way to get this shot. There is a high potential that this house could do with a deep clean and tidy. However, I am not in the mood to notice any of that at the moment which means it’s all just fine as it is. Fact.

I have worked all day, shopped for all the food and been to yoga. I have discovered that the cheese fondue packets in the Waitrose cheese aisle are bloody lovely, best eaten straight from the hot saucepan to keep the warmth and save the washing up.

I am apparently turning into what my mother in 1980 something called a slut. It surprised me a bit at the time until I realised we were working from different definitions and she was just telling me I had an untidy bedroom. Maybe I need to try it out on Daisy.

Tonight’s pub night has been transferred to next Friday due to Southern’s vagueness regarding when they might run any trains. And I have postponed my haircut and colour tomorrow, I can’t be arsed to spend hours in the hairdresser. You see? Slut.