It's been one of those days....
...y'know, those ones where you go to work and spend an hour on hold changing over the phoneline to your new flat, but it's okay because the customer service representative you're speaking to is just so damn nice you end up chatting while she sorts everything out, and you're really glad she's so nice and you're so nice back and it's all worked out perfectly, really.
The kind of day where you almost don't notice anything's wrong. The kind of day when you walk home in the rain grinning like an idiot because, hey! your boot's leaking, but the city looks so damn cute in the miserable, sopping, dew-laden drivel. The kind of day where you get home, to discover The Perfect Present from a dear friend waiting for you, and you suddenly burst into tears, but hey! it's okay, because you love her and you miss her and that's normal. And you calm down, and you go to Tesco's and you see satay, and you remember that she used to love satay, and you break down again in the middle of the Asian Foods aisle.
(can you guess what it is yet?)
The kind of day where you get home and cook dinner, and your friend comes over and gives you another pressie (yay!), and you try to cook the garlic bread, but the oven's not working properly, and it's not cooking and you're starving, but the oven just won't work, and eventually your flatmate tells you to do what you've known all along you should've done, which is turn it to the grill setting because the oven doesn't work, but then (grr) you have to eat your lasagne without the garlic bread and then you go to check the garlic bread and oh LOOK now it's BURNT just like you knew it would be because today's THE WORST DAY EVER so to cheer yourself up you have some icecream and thee - count 'em, three times your fork falls off the bowl onto the floor and three times you have to go into the kitchen and get a clean fork and - on the third time heading into the kitchen with the floored fork - it's only when you hear the SMASH of the window as the fork you were THROWING it in a fit of absolute RAGE deftly misses the sink you were aiming at and goes straight through that you think, "Bugger. I must have PMT."
The kind of day where you almost don't notice anything's wrong. The kind of day when you walk home in the rain grinning like an idiot because, hey! your boot's leaking, but the city looks so damn cute in the miserable, sopping, dew-laden drivel. The kind of day where you get home, to discover The Perfect Present from a dear friend waiting for you, and you suddenly burst into tears, but hey! it's okay, because you love her and you miss her and that's normal. And you calm down, and you go to Tesco's and you see satay, and you remember that she used to love satay, and you break down again in the middle of the Asian Foods aisle.
(can you guess what it is yet?)
The kind of day where you get home and cook dinner, and your friend comes over and gives you another pressie (yay!), and you try to cook the garlic bread, but the oven's not working properly, and it's not cooking and you're starving, but the oven just won't work, and eventually your flatmate tells you to do what you've known all along you should've done, which is turn it to the grill setting because the oven doesn't work, but then (grr) you have to eat your lasagne without the garlic bread and then you go to check the garlic bread and oh LOOK now it's BURNT just like you knew it would be because today's THE WORST DAY EVER so to cheer yourself up you have some icecream and thee - count 'em, three times your fork falls off the bowl onto the floor and three times you have to go into the kitchen and get a clean fork and - on the third time heading into the kitchen with the floored fork - it's only when you hear the SMASH of the window as the fork you were THROWING it in a fit of absolute RAGE deftly misses the sink you were aiming at and goes straight through that you think, "Bugger. I must have PMT."