Thank the Lord

I was beginning to grow increasingly concerned that you had landed in a happy land so out of reach of my FlyBys frequent flyer points we may never meet again.

Enduring my own crankiness at myself for not sending to the home email my fabulous entry about living with a ‘good girl’ complex and how suckful it is and feeling just irritable and cranky with the universe, with everything being a hassle, an effort, and just plain annoying, I am SO PLEASED you got cranky at the Prof, sobbed and threw things at him.

Ah let the joy rain down like a mid afternoon shower in Darwin.

Personally, I have now endured two weeks of wearing a bra with the underwire sticking out – so much so it has drawn blood on my chunky upper-arms (the ones I would line up for liposuction even before the mounds of flesh that grace my girth when I’m not incubating that at the moment hangs like a little forlorn sack beneath my hard round bump) that is only my own fault (as it wouldn’t occur to the Chef to do a load of washing unless its his uniforms) as I can’t be arsed to put bras in a brabag.

Tonight was the resumption of uni. I can’t say I’m that excited by this unit as it involves interviewing strangers on public modes of transport and writing a biographical piece on someone. There’s also the pesky issue of the-arrival-of-the-incubus which is going to add another whole level of physical challenge to the studies. Apart from all that, my irritability scale goes off the richter as I endure the L90 busride home with all the other misfits and lunatics who travel on public transport late at night.

I am still itching all over from the gross dissatisfaction of the weekend – and YET AGAIN all the unresolved, strike that, rewind, the never-to-be-resolved – issues I have with my mother and her take on the world.

In accordance with my new homeopath endorsed camaign of ‘alllowing my emotions’ – I am allowing myself to be pissed off, cranky, fed up, highly irritated, annoyed and did I mention pissed off.

As conveyed previously to Bec, I am working on my ‘intention’ – at the moment all I can think of is ‘my intention is to stop being so cranky’ – which I don’t think lends itself to the most constructive existence.

Oh, the other thing, I am trying to ‘live in my greatness’ as opposed to only seeing my ‘smallness’ (the things like flabby underarms, proneness to melodrama and failing pelvic floors). Hah! Greatness my arse.