A third of the way through the Dryathlon and I am doing well. Not a drip has passed my lips.
Today's room for clearing and cleaning was the sitting room. It's amazing what lives behind ones sofa. Every room I clear gets me closer to selling this house. I have done four rooms so far but, short of cling filming them, I cannot think how I will keep them tidy.
I am detoxing which means I am grumpy and very tired and fucking hungry. I think I will wear my onesie and watch Embarrassing Bodies for mental stimulation.
Heard David Bowie's new song? Dreadful dirge. I liked gene genie - now let yourself go, like I did at the weekend bopping around the flat giving poor Margaret Below a headache. Mr Smith was at golf. He had better not be at golf tomorrow as he has the two worst rooms in the house to sort out. I have just elected them to him in his absence.
Oh no, the washing machine is throwing out water from some bit at the back. Maybe I will throw it out and get one that actually works without you having to kick start it every bloomin wash. I can't get to the back of it. We may need a man.... And I don't mean Mr Useless Smith.
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