Can the busy-ness finally end?

Please? I’ve had enough, I really have. It was great having my one and only sibling visit this weekend but I’m ready for a rest now.

My brother, over-taxed himself, thankfully wanted little more than some burgers, beer and boardgames. I bullied him relentlessly and he tried to trick us into adopting new phrases that would make us sound moronic. Or he may just be a moron, it’s a tough one to call.

I feel I owe my partner something. A combination of tiredness, stress and hormonal imbalance has left me in tears three times in the last week. That’s my usual quota for the whole year. I’m now suffering dehydration and have sore patches under my eyes. He is confused as I haven’t been distraught about anything, just a bit full of stuff that overflowed and left my body in the form of mucas. I’m considering bringing back the rest cure, though I’m pretty sure I tried that in uni when I inexplicably caught man-flu.

I feel my distress is unfounded, but in the last three weeks I have visited my in-laws, hosted 2 sets of guests, been to the cinema three times, been drunk twice, prepared for house inspection and been terrorised by a cat who won’t let me sleep. And worked full time, including work-based stress. So I think I should cut myself some slack, rather than just use it as an excuse to eat more pies.

Not doing things for a bit may mean less to write about but I’m sure there will be plenty to fuel my snarky flames, like TV movies, arsey colleagues and general observations. Observation is the key to good writing after all.

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