So far today has been an absolute waste of time. The whole event is fit only to be filed under 'pointless-hours-of-my-life-i-will-never-get-back'. It's quite a big folder, as I suspect is the case with everyone who has a full time job. What's galling about today though is that it's not even office hours. I am wasting my own time. Ggrrr.
Firstly, the microwave caught fire.
Mother's reaction: 'what did you do to it?'
Z: 'I torched it.'
Honestly what the fuck does she think I did with it? All I was trying to do was heat some food, which I believe is the entire point of the thing. Anyway. The microwave was a gift from my 83 year old grandmother, who I am sure told me she bought it from Argos. Rather than upset her by telling her she'd given me an inferno as a housewarming gift, I decided to tactfully take it back and hope that, on account of the fact that it was still smoking, they wouldn't be overly fussy about whether or not I had the receipt. So I packed it up and carried the heavy box for miles, in the rain, back to the shop. Only to find she'd clearly got confused: the microwave isn't from Argos after all, and I have no idea where she bought it. Cue me lugging said heavy box back to the car again, still in the rain.
Then three cars - three! - in a row cut me up on the road, leaving me beeping and swearing and generally making every rude gesture possible, feeling like a raging bull. I saw red, I really did. I don't think I've ever had hardcore roadrage before but my God, was I incensed. My heart was pounding and it was all I could do not to just drive straight into the dimwitted wankers.
Decided to calm down by engaging in a spot of retail therapy, but of course, I couldn't find anything remotely attractive. Oh - and I've just got to the gym to use the spa (what could be more calming than that?) only to find the bloody thing is out of order. At least I can use the internet here which is more than i can say for home - yup, the Blackberry is on strike too.
I want to go back to bed.
Speaking of which last night I was flicking through the free channels, half pissed, when I found this random 'adult' show called Party Girls on Smile TV (not exactly a saucy name but there you go). It was quite possibly the least arousing bit of soft porn I have ever seen. Some heavily tattooed, orange Glaswegian lass wearing a very cheap wig and fake eyelashes writhing around on a sofa in Primark underwear pretending to talk into a phone which very clearly wasn't ringing despite her attempts to generate callers by licking the handset with pierced tongue. Still it did remind me to put out the recycling. I guess you get what you pay for.