I love Sunday’s. It’s always been my favourite day of the week, lazy mornings, roast dinners, walks, films, naps(any excuse for a sleep), Hubbo is always off too so it’s all good. Today, I feel like shit, I think I got too cold yesterday and I’ve been a hot cold sweaty mess ever since. Booooo. Happy Sunday!
Right. Christmas is a week today.
I have shopping left to do, food to buy, no money, and I don’t feel very festive at all.
I wrote a list last night, which mainly consists of cheese and alcohol. I love a good plan.
Plan for Christmas Day?
- See the family
- Eat copious amounts of rich food
- Take copious amounts of gaviscon to cope with copious amounts of rich food
- Supervise overexcited toddler on a sugar high whilst playing with copious amounts of new toys
- Put toddler to bed
- Get absolutely shitfaced.
By shitfaced I mean I’ll probably have one glass and go to bed. What the fuck has happened to my life, rock and fucking roll!
Yet again I had huge plans today for housework, namely attempting to conquer Mount Washing, which I have made huge progress with.
I pressed the start button. That’s as far as I got. Fuck that shit, I feel like shit, I can’t be arsed. Today, I am a lazy fucker and I’m PROUD. I thought I would cheer myself up, catch up on some TV.
So I decided to watch Rillington Place. Wow. It’s right up there with The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas for the happiness factor.
It’s very good, but maybe not the best choice for cheer up tellie.
So I decided to find a Disney film to cheer myself up. What did I find? Fucking Bambi.
HAPPY FUCKING SUNDAY!