A horrid day

I had an awful day at work yesterday of being bossed about by a perfectly odious little madam to the point where I wanted to burst into tears.  I very nearly walked out but thought I had better stand my ground and rise above it.  I resigned later.  The final straw came when I found a report I had written late one night after a hard day's work hadn't even been read.  I was very cross.  When I got home tired and cross, well more purple with rage, I got a request to write another report.  When exactly?  I poured myself a lovely glass of wine and sat down to flick through a few really silly sports.  There is something hilarious about weightlifting when they can't do it.  Our divers boobed it, which is odd because it looked pretty spectacular to me.

I am trying to make Mr Smith understand that my job is pants and a waste of time and I am not going to do it any more but, let's face it, sympathy isn't his greatest attribute.

Hi ho

I am working today. I love the money but I hate the traffic and stodging around in a warehouse all day when I could be watching Olympic ladies weightlifting.  Judo, what's that all about? I watched one man wave his hands in another man's face then pull his pyjama top undone.  How the heck do they mark it?  Archery, oh those bows, please can I have a go?  Oh woops that wasn't your best player was it?  Sorry.
I now have to take my car in for an MOT which is only exciting if you are my car.  Then I have to dodge those Olympic lanes all the way to groovy Lewisham.  All for a crust.  Actually, I may as well string this job out as I am the only person in this family earning any money right now.  Mr Smith quite enjoys sending me out, he enjoys sending my invoices out more.  

Gardening all sorts

Going to watch the bicycle race was overrated as all I saw was a blur that whizzed past me and I missed all the good bits, like the crash and them stopping for a wee, and had no idea which were the British cyclists. Oh, the slow ones at the end but I had dashed back home by the time they came past to try and catch the last bit on the telly. I missed it. Oh well, I can now say I went to the Olympic games.

I gardened yesterday, a bit half heartedly but with a tactic. I thought if I did a bit and showed Mr Smith what I was aiming at he could do the rest. Seems to be working so far. I might have a little nap now whilst he's not looking.


 I thought I would give myself a bit of attention yesterday after my mighty swim. I started at the top and worked down. I now have well conditioned hair all one colour, moisturised body, shaped finger nails (a bit dirty from gardening), oiled feet, trimmed toenails, hairless legs and underarms ..... Oh my goodness what a palaver. It took me most of the day and there's still many an unkempt bit. My face could do with a lift ... oh, alright, I'll just use some moisturiser for now and pluck my eyebrows .. Ooh ouch. Mr Smith failed to notice any improvement whatsoever. Maybe I will fail to notice his weed clearance.

Go team GB ... away

Then I lost my swimming goggles. Yesterday I didn't lose anything but that's probably because I didn't move from the sofa all day long. I had Olympic Games to open. Actually I did go to Kingston market in the morning to buy things that Mr Smith also bought in the supermarket. Mine were cheaper, his were better. And now I have to compete in a bicycle race. It almost goes past my door but then looking at the length of it, 250k including nine times round Box Hill and back through John Lewis, I think it goes past everyone's door. I once walked up Box Hill two years ago and I still ache.

Um er what?

Apparently memory loss is the third type of diabetes often linked with blood sugar levels. Well, admittedly I forgot about breakfast yesterday but then I forgot everything all day long. I forgot to get up which resulted in me being chronically late and I didn't have time to go swimmming before visiting Claudia despite putting on my swimsuit under my dress. I went to buy her some flowers, being a nice friend, popped into Boots for something but couldn't remember what, forgot where I had parked the car, then forgot how to get to Claudia's so rang her for instructions but realised had forgotten to charge up mobile. I then nearly forgot reason for visiting Claudia which was of course to paint her garden. Did a sketch and took some photos. Went home but forgot the way, forgot to stop at swimming pool, went home, went back to pool, forgot to shower after swim, forgot which locker I'd used and where I had parked car. Got home. Sketch of Claudia's garden looked like a load of incomprehensible squiggly lines; just as well I'd taken a load of rubbish photos that made no sense whatsoever. What was for dinner? Fish. It's supposed to be good for your memory. Today I will arrange a date to paint Claudia's garden properly .... and I will write it down so I don't forget.

Parasol Olympics

Painting by numbers is coming along ... slowly. I had a bit of a hot time as Mr Smith had for some ridiculous tidy reason decided to take the garden umbrella down. It had been erect for the past few weeks of torrential rain but when I needed a little shielding from the baking sun it was lying down on the ground in a heavy manner. I tried to lift it like a large caber and tottered about with a great deal of inelegance but failed to ram it into the little hole in the table. I gave up and got sunstroke instead whilst painting in one teeny not very good lizard. So so exciting - today I am going to play at Claudia's house. I am planning a painting of her garden and I mean real planning with pencils and everything. This is for her birthday in October and, at the paraplegic snail's pace I adopt, I had better get cracking. Perhaps I ought to finish something first.

Expanding foam

I had a very tricky time after swimming yesterday as I seemed to have expanded in the water and couldn't do my dress up. It did up before I swam but maybe that's because I had my swimsuit on underneath and it sort of held in the fat bits like a giant girdle. I just plonked my cardigan over the hideous gaping flab sticking out at the side but it was a very hot day and I felt fit to expire in a cardi. It wouldn't have mattered that much if I hadn't then lost my front door keys and found myself locked out of home. I wandered about a bit, went back to the club, searched the car park, asked at the front desk but all to no avail. I could just imagine them saying "If you find any keys they belong to a sweaty fat woman who is bursting out of her clothes." You can add mad hair to that as I hadn't quite got to grips with the styling control on the hair dryer in the changing room and adopted a blast-and-go approach to my barnet on the surmise that I wasn't going to see anyone for the rest of the day. I have had a painting on the go for far too long. I have tried every tactic in the book to get it done from staying up late to doing short sharp bursts. I am now taking the little by little approach. This means I set out the paints and brushes do a little bit then walk the dog, perform laundry tasks, make Mr Smith's dins and go swimming, lose front door keys, pay the paperman, find keys down passenger side of car, change the sheets, sort out stuff for charity shop and cook quinoa (my new healthy tribal fare) and write shopping list. This left half an hour to paint in some leaves then pack everything away for another day; nice neat leaves. Anyway, I don't imagine it will be madly different today except I will wear something looser. I do hope I am not supposed to be at work.