Warm Front, And Back, And Sides.

Well thank goodness yesterday’s bee issue was dealt with quickly and efficiently. 

I say that because I’ve had my bedroom window open all day and it’s still going to be tricky getting to sleep, considering how muggy it is. It’s odd. It’s super breezy outside, but none of it seems to be getting in. I’d be tempted to open my window completely, but I’m loathe to wake up at 3am with an owl perched on my chest (which is highly likely, as I hear one all the time as I’m drifting off) because I’ll panic and all hell will break loose. 

If the weather tomorrow is anything like today, I’m going to have to just cover the small of my back with antiperspirant, to avoid the dreaded dampness that comes from working in what is essentially a greenhouse (being on a till next to a thick glass wall in a shopping centre that has a thick glass roof) wearing a 100% polyester tunic. 

I’ll leave you on that extremely attractive image. You’re welcome. 


Covered In Bees/No Not The Bees.

So if you missed all the drama earlier, we’ve got bees. Or…had bees.

All I did was go up to the bathroom, only to be greeted by about 10 of them furiously butting their heads against the window. Cue a panicked “Dad? Dad. Dad. DAD.” “What?” “There are loads of bees in the bathroom.” “Oh Crikey.”

What followed was an hour full of bees and ladders, and bees, and bits of fabric, and bees, and phone calls to the council, and bees coming out from under the bath, and acrylic wall filler and then no more bees.

My skin is crawling just thinking back to it all, and despite it being ridiculously humid this evening, I’m loathe to open my window lest what sounds like a pissed off lawnmower heads straight for my orifaces during the night. 



Walk The Walk.

I say it every week. 

“I really must put my pedometer on today.” 

I never get round to it, and that’s a shame, because I really am interested to see how a normal Sunday at work has me dashing around all over the store. 

It’s fun though. Sundays are, by far, my favourite day of the week to work, and that’s not even (just) because we close at 4:30. I get to chat to people about stuff as I’m on the fragrance department, and I really love that. Even if I do get hot, sweaty and frustrated because things won’t work the way I want them to, and I end up with a bit of my fringe sticking up because I’ve been blowing and huffing (both of those were awful verbs to choose, but they’re there now.) away in my desperation to make the cogs in my brain tick over successfully. 

Still manage to ace it 97% of the time. 


Big Shout Out.

Shout out to the customer at work today who shook my hand when I went to take her basket of shopping, then spent the next few minutes awkwardly laughing it off. 

I wasn’t going to query it, to be honest. 


Wakin’ Bacon. 

It wasn’t until I slept with my window open last night that I realised just how much next doors’ pond sounds like bacon frying in too much hot oil. 

It’s a genius bit of foley, if we’re being honest.

But as someone who a) prefers listening to something as opposed to seeing it and b) really likes food, it’s less than ideal. 

All I did this morning after my alarm went off was lie in bed for three hours wishing there was bacon downstairs, or an attractive man who would deliver me some freshly cooked bacon, or even a nearby pig that might let me [I cannot even finish this sentence without grossing myself out. Just know it crossed that border between funny and intensely disturbing. Sorry everyone.]

So basically, I think what I’m saying is something about always having bacon available near ponds. Something like that anyway. 


Island In The Sun.

It was too warm to be of use to anyone today. 

That’s the excuse I’m sticking with if anybody asks me why on earth I stayed in my room all day reading books and listening to the radio. 

In reality, because I don’t get paid until tomorrow, I have had approximately £3 to my name, and that isn’t even enough to cover my bus fare into town and back again. 

But hoo boy. When all those dollar dollar bills (pound pound coins) drop into my bank account, the real fun will begin. I’m hoping to do some exciting stuff at the weekend, and get to spend time with friends next week. That’s when I’m not back in school sharpening hundreds of pencils and cleaning off rubbers for the 11+.

The life I lead, eh?


Worst Aid Kit.

As a self confessed MASSIVE HYPOCHONDRIAC, it’s really handy to have a parent who works a lot with first aid.


Switched Off. 

You have no idea how glorious it was waking up at 10:30am. Nowhere to be. Nothing to do. A lie-in that could only be interrupted by the arrival of the four horsemen of the apocalypse themselves. 

Because they never arrived, I took that as a sign to just kick about the house all day, not doing much. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of looking at the nice weather outside and deciding that the best way to enjoy it is in my room, with the window open. (My main excuse being the lack of in date sun cream in the house.)

Because I’m a brilliant daughter, I’m going back into work tomorrow to help Mum out with some stuff before spending the rest of my day sat up on the Hoe with a good book and a wide brimmed hat. It’ll make having to get up at 6:30 a little less painful. That’s what I’m telling myself now anyway. 


The Tidying Has Turned.

So…it would seem that rather than spending this evening under my duvet, which had originally been my intention, my brain decided that after dinner was a perfect time to do a load of extremely necessary tidying of my room. 

And I didn’t hate it. 

I think this might be why I get so distracted doing cleaning during the day. I say distracted. What I actually mean is that I don’t particularly enjoy doing any real work before 4pm. 

What I just need to keep telling myself is that once my room is sorted, I can maybe think about changing it round and redecorating. My actual room is already telling me that it’s due to be sorted, thanks to the shower leaking through one of the walls, leading to a lot of the wallpaper just peeling off. If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. 


So Near, So Far. 

I am three hours of work away from almost five whole days off. 

I think I’m mostly just looking forward to getting a lie in on Tuesday morning, to be honest. I say that now, I have a horrible feeling that my eyes are going to fly open naturally at 6:30am, and then I’m just going to be furious with myself. 

But before I get there, I just need to get through the further maths exam. Thank goodness I’m not actually sitting it.