Rush Hour.

Gosh, I swear my life is running away without me at the minute. Granted I sit on my arse all day at work (I work in an office, it's natural), but once finishing I haven't been getting in until 10pm as I've had so much house-related stuff, etc, to sort out. And 10pm is very close to my curfew and bedtime of 11pm, so I literally get in, get showered and go to bed. The joys.

Still, I can't complain. I got the keys for my chateau yesterday, and already with the very few (about 6) items I've put in there, it's starting to look like a cross between Bette Lynch's boudoir and the Queen's parlour. They're my two favourite people, so I quite enjoy it, but I think my leopard print doormat was a step too far for the boy... Still, he takes it all in good jest, and I regularly abuse this, making my mindset that I can decorate the house however I want. I have good taste, so it's all gravy...

I'm currently blogging whilst on my dinner at work, as I have another night of late-night shopping for utensils and the like planned after work, and then Steve's birthday calls tonight, so I wouldn't have gotten time otherwise. I miss my blog, and my Virgin bundle package can't be installed in 64 soon enough (especially as I made sure the package had Living TV - hello hungover re-runs of Top Model). Today is especially delightful, even though Alison is leaving us with her pearls of wisdom and starting a new job. The plus-side of that is that we have croissants and hummous galore as a leaving treat. I needn't have bothered making a frantic dash to Tesco for soup for luncheon last night. My belly was filled by 11am...

Steve is having a house party tomorrow for his birthday. I'm quite concerned that my belongings are going to be scattered and trashed, and so I anticipate having the chore of moving EVERYTHING over to my new house this evening. If the last few parties are anything to go by, it will be quite mental. I'm just upset that we haven't organised Debbie Dumpling for this one. She was a babe, and it was hilar when her naked bod sat on his face... She actually looks like a fatter version of Susan Boyle, and so I'm sure you can imagine that he nearly (almost definitely) vomited.

That's all for now unfortunately. The microwave has just finished heating my soup and keeps making noises that are getting quite irritating, so I best dash.

Peace and love x x x