Week From Hell

Week From Hell

The week gone has finally chewed me up and spat me out like some slimy wad of tobacco that some wizened up old man just spat on the footpath. That will teach me to have unkind thoughts about that woman I saw in the mall, the one with enough facial hair to rival ZZ Top. Karma can be a bitch.

First the car broke down.

Up the drive?  Noooo. Outside the house maybe? No.  At the lights on a busy street with people stuck behind you on their lunch break and in a hurry? Bingo!

The first thing I did was grab my phone so I could call for a tow, as you do. It was DEAD. One of my lovely daughters, who will remain nameless now but at the time had many names all of which I can’t mention here, had been playing games and left the phone with no charge.

When I returned home there was an e-mail from my BFF to say she couldn’t make my 50th birthday celebrations. She’s off to America on some amazing trip with her gorgeous partner.  What is she thinking passing up the chance to spend the night with a group of pickled, aging quinquagenarians all talking about the ‘good old days’?

The news on the car is not good; I may need to sell something to pay for it, or someone, maybe a certain individual who uses the last of the charge on my phone.  MWA HAHAHAHA.

To top the week off I managed to catch the mother of all colds. The sort of cold that makes you so crazy those around you would love to put you in a straitjacket and send you down the road.

Bring on the new week and whatever you do if you see a mad women running down the street in a straitjacket be kind to her she’s had a tough time of it.

 

 

 

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