The oven is fixed.
It cost $200.
The part that needed replacing cost $3.
I know you know I’m not kidding.
Today peaked and troughed as every other day has done for the better part of the last month.
Just with more sweat.
I am willing myself to get to 26 December so I can just relax already.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas for the fact it gives me carte blanche to bake to infinitum, it’s all the other crap that goes with it. In terms of the crowds, the hemorrhaging money, the I want I want I want frenzy that sucks everything around it into its black ugly core.
And I’ve been so freakin’ busy I haven’t even asked anyone over on Boxing Day.
I’m going to cook a rolled turkey breast stuffed with chestnuts and orange if anyone’s interested.
And just because I am pretty darn stoked with myself – and as pure evidence to just how beneficial stress, anxiety and living in your car can be – I am down 10 kilos. TEN. Sure, there’s another 20 to go, but the mental joy that is no longer being really grossly morbidly obese into just being morbidly obese is quite nice.
*UPDATE* – for those in the world who live in countries that refused to embrace the future, that’s 22 pounds. Or 1.57 stone. (thanks for the suggestion Mazza)