It's incipient early hay fever that makes me pick my nose, it's not a case of poor manners you know
Topic: Belle de Jour
Having done my seven hours of unpaid overtime for the day, and hoping for a break before I crack on with the last two hours of stuff I've brought home, I'm sitting on the loo, blogging while:
Overtly critical comments welcomed.
- texting Harv, whom I forgot I was to meet tonight,
- picking the dirt from my thumbnail with a nail file,
- listening to Tybalt trying to over-complicate things on the voicemail,
- having a poo,
- stripped to my push up bra , old socks and too small knickers,
- chatting to my bored under-stimulated cats,
- composing my pick up lines for a phone call to someone I fancy,
- browsing blogs on kinja, particularly ones with cute pictures of kittycats,
- planning what to eat, and trying to motivate myself to include large amounts of vegetable matter in it,
- picking my nose,
- skim-reading 152 e-mails (Quote ":) I remember reading that even into the Victorian age to spell uniformly was considered crass. Spelling uniquely made you fashionable.
Or should I say fashenebel."),
- wondering if I have time to wash the dishes before I fall asleep on the sofa like yesterday,
- trying to suck in my gut,
- realising that several doors and curtains are open, and I can be seen by any passersby.
- who will not only see me on the porcelain, but blogging from there