Reasons I am Not a Grown-Up


I spent shitloads of money on plants I know nothing about, which will probably die within three weeks. They are currently in my living room instead of in the garden, in pots or the ground or whatever. FAIL.

I started sorting out my clothes and now my cupboard looks like it vomited out all the winter jumpers and cardigans I own.

My bed is covered with ???? clothes and I slept in the only free corner not taken up by the cat, which was very awkward.

I may or may not have snorted some crushed up cold and flu tablets.

Today I put off all the things I should have done in favour of things I like doing. Like reading, and drinking wine.

I have no idea how much money (or not) is in my bank account. And yet I spend shitloads of money on plants. And also an LED sparkly tree for outside which may be crap or brilliant. No idea. It’s still in the box.

I have not done the dishes for……a while.

I have almost everything I need withing a 30cm radius of the couch.

I’ve written four Things To Do Tomorrow on my hand in red ink. Already I can neither read nor comprehend what they were. Although they were probably important.

I believe TOMORROW is when I will do ALL THE THINGS. Yes.

Advertisements

About ohhellwhatthehell

I like gin, mittens and otters, not necessarily in that order. Here's some stuff I felt like writing down when I'm not chained to a desk writing other things for a living. Please use caution when using this site; there may be sweary words, cute animals and general bullshit. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s