If I had any sense, tonight I would be writing a carefully worded, diplomatic email, explaining to someone important why I am concerned about something happening in my life that I would like to stop.
The important person could help me stop it.
Unfortunately, I am so exhausted by the whole thing, and so fed up with writing diplomatic emails, that instead I ate half a box of chocolate honeycomb and two packets of monster munch, and downed a bottle of Corona. Now I have fallen down an early nineties indie rabbit hole on Spotify, and not even a good one.
And tonight, you can cry if you want to, but it won’t help you…
I’ve also found a cartoon online of what cerebral palsy is, with the affected regions coloured in purple, and it made me laugh harder than anything has made me laugh in ages, so here it is:
If you happen to be wondering what type I have, please fuck off. Also, I have better tits than all of them.
Anyhow, if ever you needed proof that binge-eating isn’t the answer to dealing with the fuckwittery, I am it, hello. Entertainingly, I knew that before I went for the honeycomb, but still.
What I did do after all that was have a bath, with a Guardian of the Forest bath bomb, which just goes to show that, Christmas is Christmas an Halloween is Halloween, but sometimes… Well, it was the only relaxing thing I’ve done all day.
It will all be OK by the end of the week. If only having cerebral palsy involved painting yourself purple and adopting dodgy disco postures.