Sorry. Can’t be arsed


I know, I know. I said I’d post a blog a day until the end. But it turns out that was an ambition doomed to failure. What was I thinking? I can’t be arsed to post anything considered and well written on a Monday night. I’m spent. I was in back-to-back meetings from 10am until some time after 6pm, and I marked some 16,000 words of student writing during the fleeting breaks in-between. Then I went to yoga where I had to avoid eye contact with this bloke I recently matched on Tinder and unsuccessfully hold in a fart. Then I came home and worked for an hour. And then I sat and stared at Facebook. And then I half-wrote two posts, which I’ll finish tomorrow, God willing. But I want to go now and watch the Great British Sewing Bee, and then sleep a sleep haunted by Claudia Winkleman’s garish face. So I’m going to do that babies and I’ll return tomorrow with the cat story as promised, and continue this blog-a-day challenge, although there will undoubtedly be breaks in service because I’m simply not the woman I want to be. Although I’m getting closer every day.

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