June has arrived, May is an arsehole and that’s all there is to it.

Friday the 1st of June 2018 – IT’S NOT A MOANY ONE HONEST.

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I think June and I are going to get on alright to be honest. She’s come in like a breath of fresh air this morning, kicked May squarely in the flaps and sent her packing. I think she understands what I always suspected, May is an absolute tyrant – FUCK YOU MAY!(Theresa May, if you’re reading, you can also direct that FUCK YOU your way).

I have never ever been so grateful for a new start. Last month, for ALL of the reasons I moaned and moaned about was fucking terrible for me. I’ve had maybe half a dozen manageable days in the whole month which I think is as bad as its been; this crash clearly means business. The majority of the time I’ve felt like a cat clawing my way up the side of a glass wall while someone shoots nerf bullets made of Tory politicians at me – what a fucking vision, welcome to GREAT Britain people, where we starve the poor and feed the wealthy. Anyway, before I get on my bastard soap box I’ll stop… what was I saying? Oh aye, right, so, I was determined that today, the 1st of a new month would see me with better times ahead. I’m not generally one to sit and wallow in my own piss, so it’s what needed to happen and so far so good.

Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up; nothing has changed health wise for me overnight unfortunately – that wouldn’t be new month optimism, it would be a bastard miracle. I’m definitely more with it today, it’s 8 days since I visited the hairdressers and I *think* I’m over that so I guess I’m where was I was 8 days ago? Sore, heavy, knackered etc etc etc… I won’t go on. So no miracle but the next best thing has happened. My new Simba slippers have arrived. I’ll type it again….Simba…. Slippers. I OWN SIMBA SLIPPERS!!!! No, I didn’t know they did slippers either but there’s a good reason I bought them (read on) and I think if I marvel at them long enough that they’ll become the next best thing – like sliced bread, only less crumbly on the feet. So now I have a Simba mattress and matching slippers – like all the cool kids. Who fucking knew you could match your mattress to your footwear? I’m a motherfucking fashionista! I know I only just bought some others but I’m angry to say they have already died, and not very gracefully if I’m honest. I mean they’re still in tact but if I wasn’t afraid of killing the entire population of the village I would burn the fucking things. They STINK. Absolutely hum, like….I dunno…. like cheese that has crawled up a badgers arse, rolled in it’s shite and then been shat out and THEN rolled in more cheese. The long and short of it was; they were cheap and I wore them with bare feet for 4 seconds which was just long enough to create a cheese monster that I could never get rid of. I don’t even have cheesey feet, it’s a cop out from a set of slippers who just couldn’t take the pace. I was, and still am, a bit gutted. I know £14.99 isn’t a HUGE amount of money when compared to a lot of things, but its my fucking money and they should have lasted longer than a few weeks – even with the hardcore use. I need slippers see, I get right cold everywhere now and for some reason it’s particularly painful if my feet are cold *insert violin noise*. So it was like the people at Simba were my very own fairy feet mothers when they emailed me a code for 60% off these slippers if I signed back up to their mailing list…. YES I FUCKING WILL! WHERE DO I SIGN? THERE? DONE! HAVE YOU SENT THEM YET? I had to wait a week on the code, which was a fraught wait with nothing but socks to warm the tootsies but when they came, by fuck they didn’t let me down. I ordered them at 10pm on Wednesday night and they arrived this morning when John off of DPD dumped his heavy load on my husband. LOOK AT THEM, THEY HAVE PRESSURE FILLED THINGS THAT KISS THE SORE BITS IN MY FEET

I know what you’re thinking: Number 1 – they’re ugly. Yes they are but I give none of the fucks, they are functional and the most comfortable slippers I have ever worn and they had 60% off…Next? Number 2 – you’re only a size 5? No, no I’m not, that’s the FIFTH pressure pad, the others are further up in the foot of the slipper but my camera shat out when it came to taking pics. I can confirm that although I would have liked to have been made all gentile like, everything I’ve grown is fucking huge including my great big hairy size 8 hobbitses feet. SO WHAT.

I knew they were coming today because John off of DPD text me earlier but I missed the initial excitement of the doorbell ringing to announce their arrival because….. I WAS OUT. No, not in the garden. I went to Rejects which is a right nice wee local department store to pick up one or two bits for someone’s birthday (if you’re reading this wondering if I’ll spill what I bought you… I won’t. Sod off). I pottered around for 5-10 minutes in there looking at the all the lovely things and wondering if I could justify £36 for one candle which apparently smells like Mauritius (I couldn’t, what the fuck does Mauritius smell like though? I’ve never been. Could have smelled like Wigan for all I knew), picked up what I needed and then got back in the car. I needed to go to my Mecca (you know the one) but I couldn’t face another wee walk just yet, so I went via the car wash and let the guys there scrub off the welded shite while I watched. I was able to rest and the car is now clean for the first time in… well probably this year I think? Winner. It needed it mind, Agnes and Davie were protest shitting all over the place yesterday when the guys were working on the roof fitting the windowless window. Although, it might not have been them in fairness – the roofer confirmed we have ANOTHER nest the next level above the flat roof. Fucks sake. I’ve no idea why Davie is tolerating that situation given his propensity to try and kill anyone who comes near, I can only presume the other bloke bird is bigger – probably called something intimidating like Mountain Fucker or summit. You know the sort. The fact there are two nests up there at least explains why it sounds like Isis (the terrorist group, not the dead dog in Downton) are camping on the roof. Noisy noisy bastards…. can’t wait till the chicks hatch.

So anyway the car is clean, I had to wait 20 minutes in a queue to get it clean mind, but its now clean and then I went to the only place that matters……

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Now don’t get me wrong, I love B & Q but not THIS much, not enough to be there at least once a fucking week. I’m going to start getting invited to their staff nights out at this rate! Thing is, it’s local, and easy for me to walk round so if I need something they sell I go there rather than anywhere else because it’s the easier option. I needed more sodding plants for the planters we bought last week; you know the ones we bought to keep the brain trust from jumping on the garage roof and either fleeing or getting beaten up by a sparrow? Turns out even though Bear can see them he’s STILL trying to jump at them and they’re getting knocked down all over the place while they’re light enough to fall. So, must fill with heavy things, like stones, mud and plants. I was in maybe 5-10 mins and went on my merry way, to get the ONLY thing Christiaan had requested on my travels; a chocolate milkshake. I asked him if he meant a Friij style one and I thought his wee face fell in disappointment as he said “yeah something like that” so I guessed he meant something more filthy. I did an amazing wife thing; I went to McDonalds for him. Yep me, who’s doing fat club. I went to McDonalds. No point in just getting him a milkshake though, so even though it’s burger Friday I got him some wee cheeseburgers and chips – because he loves them and I KNEW he’d not have any trouble eating them AND home made burger tonight. He eats like a sparrow normally but burgers and pizza are his nectar. I drove home imagining his wee face like a kid at Christmas – I was willingly feeding him junk food… but I fucked it up because I’d timed it wrong. I pulled into the drive just as he was leaving to go to the barbers, neither he nor I knew he was going at that time before I set off so it was just one of those things but it was a wee shame to see him give himself indigestion wolfing it down before he went… poor fucker. Still, it’s the thought that counts innit? And also what counts is that I hadn’t eaten it myself on the way home which was a real danger – I know it’s horrific, full of shite etc but there’s something about the smell of it that gets my saliva flowing. Still…. my lunchtime mushroom and onion pasta was… well.. not a fucking McDonalds.

Not long to wait until I have my own burger right enough; we all know what day it is. I’ve just got to go and get the wee man first and no doubt there will be another fucking awful masterpiece in his bag. I know I’m supposed to treasure every little thing he’s touched but fuck me, nursery don’t half send home some utter shite that he’s “made”. I love my boy, I adore him, but he’s shit at art – I don’t care if he’s only 2.5 he needs to up his game from THIS if we’ve got any hope of him making a million bazillion gazillion dollars from it.

Apparently it was “created” using toilet rolls. Shit innit? I guess if I was being very very generous it COULD look like a glow worm drinking a cocktail. It looks like there’s a wee face of some kind which has been created by accident but honestly… what the fuck am I meant to do with it? It’s only on the fridge because Christiaan put it there, I normally take them from his bag and chuck them right in the bin. I’ll start keeping them when he’s a bit older and he’s actually MEANT to draw something but there’s no need to for now… is there? He has no idea what the fuck he’s “making” any more than we do, it’s just another 2 minute distraction in between shitting himself, eating or crying. I’ve also realised he’s going to be boiling at nursery today n all, it was cold and cloudy when he left this morning but it’s now 19 degrees and sunny. Ah well, he’s worked out how to pull his trousers down now so if he’s got any sense he’ll strip off and Benny Hill the fuck out of the nursery garden while they chase him trying to slather him in sun cream or get him clothed again…. Aye good luck with that. (*edit it started hammering it down with rain since I wrote that…. I feel vindicated)

The end

(Do me a fave will you? if you’re enjoying what you’re reading, and you’re reading via Facebook. Like the blog post. You don’t have to say anything, just like or love or cry or anger, whatever, do something. If you don’t Facebook will presume you liked the page by accident and fuck me over by showing you videos of dancing kittens instead of the stuff I post. And dancing kittens are wank. Fact.)

  • Highlights
    • June is here, we like June, she brings with her a promise of a better 4 weeks….. or she’ll get a doing
    • I got out, not for very long and not to do very much but it was as much as I’ve done for days hoooray!
    • I didn’t eat Christiaan’s filthy McDonalds
    • Christiaan has finally had his manfro cut after weeks and weeks of nagging
    • SIMBA FUCKING SLIPPERS
    • Burger Friday innit
  • Lowlights
    • I’m ignoring them all today in favour of a less moany approach to the new month – business as normal tomorrow innit
  • What’s on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast – a yoghurt with some melon and raspberries
    • Lunch – A tiny amount of pasta with a fucktonne of mushrooms and onions and some sweet chilli philadelphia stirred through
    • Dinner – BURGER FRIDAY INNIT

Are you new round here?

If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum

#ThisisME

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