The Delightful Housemates have gone to Cavan for a wedding. I didn't even know Cavan people were into that. The husband still refuses to come back from Ukraine. Tis merely me, but I bask in the quiet.

While basking quietly, like a large whale on the verge of death, I did a number of stupid things today.

1. I agreed to help a stupid customer at work with a large problem fifteen minutes before I was due to go home. I did not go home for a long time.
2. I went shopping. With a friend. All the walking and the trying on and the spending and the queueing. I am crankified.
3. I attempted to clean this house in preparation for my parents. Everything is covered in a thick layer of viscous grime and I became frenzied, scrubbing till my pinkies were raw. In the process, I splashed bleach on my favourite brown top. My favourite top. It is ruined. Now it sits sadly in the corner, crying for what might have been. Or maybe that's me. Or maybe it's that old man I found and brought home in a fit of compassion.

The bombs in London, which I will not be blogging about, have me quite depressed. Why, oh why, does anyone believe that humans are inherently good? The opposite is so painfully obviously the case. The human race is a large sack of evil bastards.

I am slayed with heartburn recently. Anyone know a good cure? Answers on a postcard to your mother. (We're having lunch tomorrow. She'll pass it on.) I try chewing carefully, I eat rennies like e tabs, I drink milk (but not too much, because the experts tell me that while this produces immediate relief, it is short lived as more acid is produced to digest the milk), I cast spells. Nada. What with my football injury and firey stabbing in the throatal/chest area (medical term, that) I am a crock.

Bed for the crock. Tomorrow I wear new shoes. I need to get my rest for that.

neuro-praxis -- Her Milkshake Brings All The Toys to the Lard