My positive, happy new outlook on life lasted right up until 9.01am this morning when once again I was back at my desk, realising what a shit hole I have work in. From then on my day just got worse and worse until battling against the umbrella brigade going home I took a detour into Tescos and bought myself a bottle of Drambuie. Now there is nice a drink to cheer a girl up - and sod the diet we'll start again on Monday.
There must be another way to earn a living - why can't I think of one? I can't sing or dance, I'm not sporty and Stephen King has already stolen my idea for a novel. I have some brilliant property development/design ideas but I'm too hopeless at DIY - my shelves are all wonky and I can barely change a lightbulb. I'm too old and saggy to be an "escort" and I'm far too soft and honest to resort to a life of crime. It doesnt seem likely that I'm going to win the lottery anytime soon so I am going to have to think of something else before the senility sets in earlier than expected. What shall I do?
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