|Not how I'm feeling at all right now. Nope, not me.|
You know you're down on your luck when you have a sugar craving and all you can afford are cruddy digestive biscuits.
Have lost my blasted glasses yet again so yes, take it away, migraines!
I have always waxed eloquent about the balls of my feet - poetic things like sand grazing them and water tickling them like a shameless teenager with no reserve whatsoever. But I've only just met them, like really met them. They are not pleasant things, these, especially after they've been pounding pavements for 10 hours each day.
I think I'm quickly turning into what are usually known as 'humourless broads'. When I see people kissing in public and squeegeeing each others fun parts, I get all red in the face and squinty-eyed with judgement. Is that weird? I have to point out, in my defence, that this kind of kissing is less sweet, more alarming. Also, is EVERYONE in love or something? I'm glad I'm not part of the cliche. I'm single and grouchy and have recently relaxed into wearing granny chuddies most of the time. Me:1; Love: Thenga.
That's all folks. I shall now spend several minutes talking my butt out of this chair and back on the road. Viszlát! (I think)