I’m sick of:

General Nonsense

Things I’m sick to the back teeth of:

  1. Not winning £300,000 on scratchcards. 
  2. That bloody light coming on in the bloody car – YOU DON’T NEED A BLOODY LAMBDA SENSOR. STFU AND LET’S HEAR NO MORE ABOUT IT OR I’LL TRADE YOU IN. 
  3. Storm Desmond. In a tradition stretching back to Hurricane Bawbag, I propose that the naming of weather phenomenon be left in the safe hands of the people of Scotland eg Storm Fannychops or Hurricane Buckfast etc. Or non-Scottish nomenclature that sounds rude but isn’t eg Hurricane Tummystick or Storm Ringsausage. 
  4. Eating dust when I actually want all the carbs and fat. I rebeled and had four fish fingers for my tea. I struggled to articulate this to Les on the phone and ended up in a tangle of teeth, tongue and lips. Alliteration of foodstuffs can be tricksy. 
  5. Not being able to kill two birds with one stone by taking Tucker a walk and popping in to the Big Tesco en route. I could claim he’s a guide dog in training if he’d just co-operate and stop being overfriendly and skittish. 
  6. The telly and the absolute shite thereon. 
  7. The state of my bedroom. 
  8. The festive decorations not teleporting themselves from the undoubtedly spider-ridden garage to my living room. 
  9. The thing that I’ve hoovered up – possibly a hair tie or a kirby grip – that makes the hoover go thrrrrrrrr despite my poking its innards with a knitting needle. 
  10. Talking of knitting needles, I’m sick of the lack of motivation to finish the seventies-tastic tank top I started knitting for Les way back in the early heady days of our relationship when we were both holding our stomachs in and shaving our legs regularly and I was trying to impress her with my questionable raft of domestic and craft skills. She sees me for what I am now – a hairy legged plump non-completer. 

Apologies for being Mrs Neggypants but I’m feeling a bit biscuit-ersed tonight. Bloody weather. 

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