Specifically, I don't like grey, dark, wet, damp, miserable, misty, dank, soggy Monday mornings. Actually, I just don't like mornings but that's not as catchy and was never a Boomtown Rats song.
Paul tried to kill me with his television this weekend. Well, okay I am being rather dramatic for effect. He's having his living room repaired/redecorated after a bathroom pipe leak caused a nice chunk of ceiling to break away. Insurance is a good thing. Anyway, we moved everything out of the living room in preparation and the only place to move stuff was upstairs. Paul has a big television. A big, heavy, wide screen TV. I am short. I have short arms. Short arms and a big television means all I can really do is hold the TV by the tips of my fingers, which is a bad thing when you're trying to get it up a flight of stairs. Needless to say, I fell backwards, leaving the TV entirely in Paul's hands, and decided that it would be better to sit there with it in my lap going "OW OW OW!" for a few minutes. I do believe the television will just have to stay there until Paul moves. I think it looks fetching in his spare room facing the radiator, and should remain in this position until some big burly men come and move it into my house.
Some quick bits before I go soak in a lurverly bubble bath:
- Does anyone have any land in Cambridgeshire that they want to sell us for, oh, let's say a fiver? Okay, a tenner? We'll invite you over for dinner when we get our house built. Dinner and drinks, even.
- Lemon Jelly tickets arrived in the post today! Yippppppiiiieeeeee!
- Three of my friends announced in the past month that they are expecting their first child. I am obviously some sort of fertility goddess. Keep away from me if you don't want to reproduce with your loved one. Or come closer to me if you do.