A certain age

I have reached a point in my life where I believe there is a cosmetic solution to everything, so if – say! – I am not sleeping, it will occur to me to purchase a pillow mist from a high street store, rather than – say! – look at ways of making my life less stressful, or relaxing more.

(I don’t know if it works.  I haven’t tried it yet.  I also, also, nearly missed my podiatry appointment as a result of it, because I was lolling round in the shop thinking my appointment was at 11am and I was early, when actually it was at 10:40am and I was late.  But that is another story.)

I have also reached the age where, when I purchase over-priced pillow mist, the shop assistant puts a sachet of anti-ageing moisturiser in my bag.  Two sachets, actually.  SIGH.

As it happens, my skin is looking great since I’ve been using the charcoal cleanser, so FUCK YOU, SHOP ASSISTANT.

I do need to relax more.  I know that’s a surprise to you.

Other things:  I had my hair cut, which kind of results in not having a bath.  If I have a bath, I’ll fuck my hair up.  She had run out of her groovy magic shampoo which is only available at her salon, so we have reverted to the Milkshake shampoo she used to sell me before the magic shampoo was available, except the one I used to have smelt of ice cream, and the new one doesn’t.

I haven’t tried that, either.  I don’t even know why I’m writing this post.

It’s been a good day.  I went to a lot of appointments.  I got almost everywhere on the bus.  Nobody died.  I feel like if I go to bed now, I might actually go to sleep.  A good day.



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