Make it so

A long day.

Not a bad day, but a day in which my brain is rather chewed up and spat out. I have been doing a great deal of thinking creatively and am now rather much a husk. A veritable husk.

Well, apart from the bits that are filled with cake, which has sustained me. Sustainability, as we all know, is incredibly very important, and is one of my favourite watchwords.

Along with cake.

I am trying to post every day barring ill health and natural disasters. So despite the fact that there is huskiness afoot in the brainal areas, here I am, wittering on about very little.

I think I shall do list type activities:

Firstly I am addicted to granola slices from Tesco, along with their gigantic custard creams and Bourbon biscuits (Did French monarchs invent these biscuits? Tell me that they did. This would be brilliant).  I realise that granola slices are totally unhealthy, despite the fact that they have seeds and nuts and other squirreltastic stuff in them.  I do not care. I still cram them into my mouth with gay abandon like Cookie Monster on a spree.

My fasting has not happened for a month. I am still at a weight I am happy with. This is excellent news, particularly given the newly minted dependence on granola slices.  I realise that this happy state of affairs may not last, and fasting may have to continue.  I also realise that I am more tired since I stopped fasting. I cannot decide if this is down to the excess of fruit and nuts or the fact that my life is insanely busy at the moment. I shall investigate further, both into idleness and possibly out the other side.

I have not exercised since last Monday. This is due to a combination of hormonal ill health and an unfortunate incident where I twisted my ankle somewhat whilst trying FASHION.I bought a pair of spectacularly retro silver leather clogs, and promptly went tits up in them. It just shows you how dangerous following fashion can be.  Let that be a warning to you all.  I intend to revisit the gym next week when all gynaecological/hormonal/clog related issues should be relegated to the back burner for at least a fortnight.

I have read another book from the list of 1001 Books To Read Before You Die.  I read ‘The Good Doctor’ by Damon Galgut.  I have been musing this list since finishing it, and ticking off yet another miserable book written by a bloke who seems rather dour. I am wondering whether this list book should have been called: ‘1001 Books To Read That Will Make You Want To Die’? I suspect this is the truth of the matter.

I have a strange lumpy thing on my elbow. It is like a spot except it isn’t really and it keeps recurring and I keep occasionally prodding at it, scratching it, and ignoring it.  I have now decided that it is probably a sign of cancer brought about by a radioactive spider bite.  I suspect that I will a) writhe about in agony at any second, b) shortly thereafter develop super powers, c) simultaneously develop radioactive blood, d) find out that I am living next door to my nemesis who wants to kill me for something I did to their father twenty years ago when I didn’t even know I’d done it (so unfair) and then e) drop down dead from the shock of baby radioactive spiders pouring out of my wound.  My only satisfaction is that they will probably then devour my nemesis to avenge my name.  Not that I will care overmuch due to being dead from having a lumpy elbow.

Mostly I think I will just take my lumpy elbow to the Dr, and while I am there I will have my quarterly whinge about the fact that hormones are absolutely and utterly pants and why couldn’t I have been born as a man called Dave with huge muscles and a zapata moustache?

I’ve always wanted to pee standing up too.

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