Food cures all evil
Now Playing: slurping, gobbling, ice-creamy sounds
Gawd bless my yesterday-self. My whining, self-pitying, gratuitous self. Because in the gaps between attention seeking, and melancholy, I spent four - yes, four! - hours logging onto Tesco online and ordering groceries.
This means I had to crawl out of my stinking pit by lunchtime, to accept the delivery. Even better, I had to actually shower - a great service to humanity and the other beings who have to inhabit my airspace (mostly feline, but you never know).
Brushing my teeth and commiserating on the hard life I lead, I noticed that my lips are chafed. Strange. Was I attacking my own lips in the night, in a furious search for solace? Or did the bloody cat have at me with her claws when I missed the alarm again?
Aaaaaaaaanyway, as lemonpillows says, by this morning I had no memory whatsoever of what I'd ordered, just that it had taken four long, infuriating hours to do it, and that it had cost a bomb. Oh, and that I'd been drunkenly upbraided by ex-DH for not ordering her favourite brand of toothpaste (Bad Mexican Maid: but stuff it, when she pays for any of the food she eats, she can claim priority in toothpaste branding). Cue about eighty bulging carrier bags and one Nice Man who didn't mind carrying them up to the third floor ("it's my job miss" - bloody hell, the whole concept of 'uncomplaining' was enough to shock me from my stupor - I hadn't even tried The Ankle Excuse).
And --- praise --- benedicite --- gramercy to my Sick Self: I'd ordered everything a Sick Person could possibly require. No, not that sort of Sick!
Nine bottles of very expensive wine (shameful!);
Eighty-two sadbastardreadymeals (including five variants of Ocean Pie);
Four pots of ice cream (three low fat, one B&J Cookies n Cream, currently sinking into an insatiable hollow) (ie. my face);
Deep Heat anaesthetising sprain spray (yay! just in case there really was a sprain, which, dammit, there is) (Note to self: do not spray on face, even if depressed);
A billion English apples (that's the sort of thing I always presume will make me healthy - conveniently forgetting you have to eat them as well)
Great toast-making bread, crumpets, choccy biccies;
Quaker oats (so I can imagine a warm orange glow from the 1970s, protecting me from harm);
Every type of continental cheese I can eat (none of which would go into a fondue, but hell, I can work my way up) (sorry to Dave for the frequent references to cheese of late!);
Eggs! For the frying of! With Beans! and Toast!
Some German salami (to enable me to make my favourite salami and grilled feta sandwich, yay).
And what's more, listing these gustatory delights has knocked the blog entry where my girlfriend dumped me from the front page. So life does go on.