And so on for my monthly update.

Good day to you.
Writing is just so incredibly challenging when all I seem to be doing is STUFF. STUFF occupies my life. If it isn;t work STUFF, it is house STUFF. If it isn't house STUFF, I seem to be running around for people, or sorting out things that have nothing to do with me. Favours upon favours. It;s like I am the sodding Godfather or something.
But today is time out. My week has been too full. Many people came and went, work was hectic. Vigilante missions late at night, jumping roofs in my ninja gear, helping kittens cross the road and lifting old ladies from trees. Friday night dancing to appalling music, being picked up repeatedly and bounced, I felt like a shaken baby by the end of the night. Rocking home at 5am. Saturday hangover, fixing house STUFF. Taking all day to sort out a doorframe, complicated mysteries contained within utterly incomprehensible instruction leaflets. Cursing the day I vowed to sort out my own house rather than let someone else do it. Being silently pleased with the outcome when the frame was in and the house was still standing.
Saturday night is Sex and The City night. Cinema time in cocktail dresses and silly shoes. Extravagant. Cocktails at cloud bar. Decadence. Squandering money at 235. Quit while you're winning. Or just play until you are broke. Rock home at 6am.
And this brings us to Sunday. This is what Sunday looks like.


xx

Good day to you.
Writing is just so incredibly challenging when all I seem to be doing is STUFF. STUFF occupies my life. If it isn;t work STUFF, it is house STUFF. If it isn't house STUFF, I seem to be running around for people, or sorting out things that have nothing to do with me. Favours upon favours. It;s like I am the sodding Godfather or something.
But today is time out. My week has been too full. Many people came and went, work was hectic. Vigilante missions late at night, jumping roofs in my ninja gear, helping kittens cross the road and lifting old ladies from trees. Friday night dancing to appalling music, being picked up repeatedly and bounced, I felt like a shaken baby by the end of the night. Rocking home at 5am. Saturday hangover, fixing house STUFF. Taking all day to sort out a doorframe, complicated mysteries contained within utterly incomprehensible instruction leaflets. Cursing the day I vowed to sort out my own house rather than let someone else do it. Being silently pleased with the outcome when the frame was in and the house was still standing.
Saturday night is Sex and The City night. Cinema time in cocktail dresses and silly shoes. Extravagant. Cocktails at cloud bar. Decadence. Squandering money at 235. Quit while you're winning. Or just play until you are broke. Rock home at 6am.
And this brings us to Sunday. This is what Sunday looks like.


xx
JUNE 2008
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