Well, that is just typical...

Earlier on at work I had loads of different things swimming around my head whilst trying to concentrate on Invoice no. 2667. At the time, starting a blog seemed like a good idea, like a diary to write down all your ideas and troubles etc, but leaving out the embarrassing entries, like the page that's just a big list of future offspring's names...
Not that I've ever done that.
But now I feel like maybe a blog defeats the purpose since you'll obviously edit what you're really thinking for fear of freaking out or offending people by being honest. It's all for show, for other people's entertainment and judgement. But then, don't you want people to see it?

I don't even have anything relevant to say anymore. All the stupid, niggly things worrying me at work, dissappeared when I had dinner. All I'm bothered about now is the fact that the cleaner's been and moved my belongings, and now I can't find my hairbands or matches or the books I specifically left under my bed so my boyfriend wouldn't see them on the bookshelf. Sometimes it's fun to re-read Jacqueline Wilson stories.

Everything I've written is deeply boring and if anyone bother's reading this first pitiful entry (and they won't), I apologise.

I'll think of something better to say next time. I'm getting in the bath.