New Year’s resolutionsPosted: January 2, 2012
Got to be done. Got to be committed to paper – or t’interweb – in order to be able to properly beat myself up with them when I fail. Ah, that’s the spirit…
Notes to D for 2012
1. Stop sleeping with inappropriate men. It makes you feel worse. And you might catch something. Ugh.
2. Go to bed before 11pm more nights than not.
3. Try and exercise for half an hour every day. This will involve walking round and round the field near work at lunch time. Even in the rain. Are you listening? Even in the rain.
4. Take multivitamins every day. EVERY DAY. EVERY FUCKING DAY, D. Why do you find this so ridiculously hard to remember to do?
5. Write more. Your blog, the novel (as if!), at work (it’s kinda what they pay you to do…). More words. They do good things to poor broken souls.
6. Wear make-up more days than not, so when the man who comes to service your boiler is unexpectedly the most handsome creature you’ve seen in a while, and is also single and quickly becomes besotted with your boy, you aren’t standing there looking like shit on a shovel with unbrushed teeth and hair and the dowdiest grey dress on you own, because it didn’t need ironing. Make more of an effort. Not for anyone else. But for you.
7. Burn that fucking grey dress.
8. Find ways to fund your L’Occitane Immortelle Divine habit that don’t involve breaking resolution number 1. Good skin makes everything much, much better.
9. If (when, I fear when) The Pirate reappears, be strong. BE STRONG. His last email may well have ended in 2 kisses. Please for the love of all things holy, stop fucking analysing them. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. There. 20 kisses in 2 seconds. It’s that fucking easy. His finger probably slipped, or he had a terrible cold and he was dying and far too weak to even lift his finger off the ‘x’ key. BE STRONG.
10. Play with your son more. Even brumming, which has a whole circle of hell dedicated to its unique brand of random, soul-destroying tedium. And even though he makes the ‘rules’ up as he goes along and never lets you be the car/fire engine/ambulance you want to be. It won’t be long before he’d sooner spit on you than brum with you.
That’ll do. There are 4 minutes to go before I break number 2 and about 20 minutes of chores to do before bed. Oh well. I’ll start tomorrow.