The grumpiest day of each year.
Quarter of a Century. Quarter-of-a-fuckin-century! That's just scary!
Mum's back from America but she doesn't have time to meet up until Thursday, I think she's got a gig in London Wednesday night. Hopefully having the four weeks away did the trick in terms of her writers retreat. I know last time she went down to the big smoke she had three or four agents kissing her arse over the first draft of "Who Cares?" so with any luck the new and improved version will actually land her a publisher!
*grump* I have evil pains in three different places, a headache and I'm wicked hungry because I ran out of food this (yesterday?) morning and and I'm saving for a big sandwich and a muffin to get me through the 9 - 6 tomorrow(today?) and I want orange/pineapple duck with vegetable chow-mein from Wokaholic when I get home. A card with a fiver in it from someone would have been handy but I don't think the people who used to send me money even know where I live anymore. Got a card from Kätchen though. I really should go and see her before this year's work load picks up.
1.40am... Not even two hours into the day and I'm already complaining. *tut* Hey, at least I'm not Steve Irwin!
...Now there's a thought to kick off a quarter-life crisis!