The Filing Cabinet turned into Ten Cardboard Folders
No it’s not like going out with a cow and coming back with ten magic beans. It’s actually seeing that the “answer to all my paper chaos” cabinet was nearly £100 for the slimline elegant version, or half that for an ugly regular one and coming to my senses on the pavement right there.
So consequently a few documents now nestle comfortably labelled in their coloured folders whilst most of the other paperwork roams wild around the house. I’ll catch that pesky stuff one day! Did I mention the lawn?
No, well, after I bought the manila folders (why are they called that) I decided the missing grass on the handkerchief back garden needed reseeding – which would take about 10 minutes (not magic minutes either). Hours later after digging, breaking, raking, moaning, nearly decapitating the kids who joined the “Save the Worms” party in the meantime, I had a half a dug up, remnants of lawn, patch. There’s seed (plenty or too much, time will tell) but although we watered and flung handfuls of compost on it in vain hope and ignorance I have to report nothing to report in the growing department 24 hours on.
The rear-view mirror in the car is still dangling off, the sticky pads in the shop completely useless. The man in a different shop told me to go to a windscreen shop so they can bond it on as BMWs have extra heavy mirrors – i.e. too heavy for the glue he was selling (or not selling to me). Like I’m going to do that. What fix a problem straight off the bat, no messing. Oh no, not me, not when I could waste a load of money on useless sticky things and drive across country for a couple of hundred miles with the mirror swinging around threatening to whack me in the head. Living dangerously, that’s me!
On the makemeadiva programme, a personal trainer came round for the first consultation. I have been advised to detox if possible and definitely keep a food diary. We had a vile McDonalds for tea, if I don’t write it down then it never happened. Oh and I booked a hair appointment. The voice on the phone asked if I wanted a cut and colour. I really couldn’t say. Oh dear, oh dear. I know the cut I sport right now is too annoying to be tolerated but as for colour…
makemeadiva tip: Don’t have a good-looking personal trainer because when they test your resting heart rate the reading will be sorely elevated 🙂