How bored I am … [to the tune of How Great Thou Art ]… how booooored I am. I did Nothing Whatsoever last week, bar about ten minutes’ worth of proofing. I really want to tell my boss that I think I should stop working for them because it’s such a waste of their money, but then I’d have no job. (I use the terms “working” and “job” as loosely as possible there.)
People who can’t spell lose annoy me. Loose = adjective, not tight. Lose = verb, opposite of find. It’s really not that hard.
Sw’anyway. I went to the doctor last week for some new pills. And she wrote on her notes for my file, “Stop taking pill three months before you want to get pregnant.” Right there in black and white as if it might actually happen. Eep. (Yes, I did mention the possibility of the baby-making plan to her, she didn’t just look at me and decide it was about time I procreated.) Anyway, she took it all in her stride as if it was a perfectly resonable thing to propose, and didn’t say, “Are you mad? You’ll never sleep again, you know. You’ll never finish a book longer than Hop on Pop and your conversations will revolve around poo. You’ll never have sex again, this is by far the flattest your stomach will ever be for the Rest of Your Life, and, you idiots, you don’t even own a house or know what continent you’ll be living on in two years’ time.”
So maybe it’s a runner. Which, of course, is terrifying. Better read all the books and have all the sex now, while we can.