Signs

So what with post weekend blues, things going tits up with the sister and the ex getting a bird..or date....or whatever, things have been pants.

Had a good night last night with lots of old friends which has improved the mood considerably.
Then at 7am this morning, my incredibly loud buzzer buzzed three times. Shouting 'WTF' and the like, I wrapped myself in a towel and opening the door to find a very good friend who now lives in the U.K. standing on my doorstep. Squinting due to lack of contact lenses and slightly hungover, I continued down the WTF path.
A total surprise and his brief stay couldn't have come at a better time.

Then a small package arrived in the post from one of my fave male mates. It was thoughtful, amusing, topical and well-timed, plus it put a huge smile on my face.

Things happen for a reason and whilst I don't believe in guardian angels as such, I definitely see it as some sort of sign.

Bitch

I dreamt I met the new girlfriend of the ex factor. It's amazing how one date has transformed into a girlfriend in my subconscious mind. It is a definite reflection of how I feel about the date.

It is worth noting she was attractive although not outstandingly so and young.
She also said that her hair was prettier than mine when comparing us in the dream - the bitch.

Woke up feeling grumpy about it this morning. Rubbish.

Rehab

I found out last night my sister is going into rehab tomorrow for a month. Alcohol issues amongst other things...

I was chatting to her whilst getting stuck into a large glass of wine - alone.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Puffy

Why is it, that when you have a good old cry-a-thon, the next day you look like you are missing a chromosome or something.
As if it's not bad enough that I'm feeling blue, occasionally sobbing, wallowing and feeling generally fucking sorry for myself - I seem to be allergic to my own tears.
This morning, my eyes were red rimmed and so puffy that I didn't even look like myself. This meant I couldn't really get away with trying to pass myself off as jolly and happy when my stupid fucking chromosome lacking eyes told a different story.

This self pity I might add is only temporary and a direct result of a bloody brilliant weekend away. Returning to work yesterday on my least favourite day of the week by far, along with falling out with a friend who I also work with in a school playground type way, has rendered me leaky of eye, achy of head and tired of mind.
I should also add that my ex told me he was going out on a date last night which didn't help matters along. Although I would want to know if it was significant, I told him to keep the random dates to himself.
I don't know why I care but I do. We split up 18 months ago now after 4 long years....
Is it just because I am not getting any? I think so.

The hills are alive...

I am off to Switzerland. I envisage wine drinking and cheese and chocolate eating as that is what the Swiss do.

They also climb mountains wearing lederhosen singing the hills are alive. Or is that the Austrians?
Anyway, I am loving the Wikipedia description:

The word Lederhosen is frequently misspelled and mispronounced in the English language as "leiderhosen" (literal German meaning: regrettably-breeches) or "liederhosen" (literal German meaning: songs-breeches) and should rhyme with "fader chosen".

Fader chosen...I ask you. It is almost a comedy entry...

I am off to see some friends. She is asking me to bring walking boots and a fleece. There is little need for either of these items in the south of France and I am more a flip flop and shorts type anyway.
I have a huge fear of fleeces - whilst I appreciate they have their uses, I think they should generally be reserved for geeks and retired geography teachers....but that's just my opinion.
Have you ever heard anyone say, 'Look at her trendy fleece!'.

I rest my case.

Instead I have some dodgy sports trainers and a zippy-uppy-tracksuit-toppy thingy of the non shell suit variety. I don't think I needed to clarify that last bit.

We are doing some walking. Allegedly.

There is a small amount of wee on my office chair.

Bo selecta

My favourite pub with my favourite barman and current crush has re-opened after a month of being shut.

This is a good thing. On reopening night on Monday, I realised that it would be easy to slip back into July's antics of passing by every night for a spritzer and some mild stalking.

This must stop. The object of my affections not only has a girlfriend but he is also a friend.
Time to call it quits.

I told him so with the fairly obvious and only slightly cryptic text.

Full support for the re-opening. Def gonna try not to slip into my July-every-nite habits, fuelling my alcohol habit and futile crushes!

The following day, my phone starting buzzing with a short string of the most delightful text banter....

Him: 2 quote Craig David are u walking away from the 7 days action or would you prefer a rendez-vous where u could fill me in on what your flava is?

Me: Could say it's nothing personal but that's not all the way true. No hidden agenda just no need to rewind to unbelievable July behaviour...

Him: Priceless..! my rise and fall was that I met my french bird on a Monday took her for a drink on Tuesday, we were making love on Wednesday and Thursday and Friday and Saturday but chilled on Sunday which I guess makes me slicker than your average

(Yep.....not so sure about this one. I know it's only a game but even so....TMI!)

Me: That ego is really something! U can't be messing around so don't let her go. More woman trouble and less time to party. I'm just chillin'.....

Now I should add here that neither of us are Craig David fans. In fact, I hadn't even realised he had written that many songs, most of which are contained in the above texts....if you hadn't realised already.

This kind of silly behaviour is exactly what I love. The crush is not looking to fade anytime soon so I only have my self-imposed ban on the pub to guide me through.

Living arrangements

My living arrangements are quite complicated. Well perhaps not that complicated...they are as follows:
I own a flat which I don't live in. It is rented out.
I live in my mum's flat which I don't own but rent off her. She doesn't live in it. She lives in her own house in England.
Right, now that's sorted.
The thing with her owning my current residence is that she visits from time to time which is lovely. However, she also brings her friends. Rarely, I might add, but she does.

She arrived about half an hour ago with two of her friends and as the place is two bedrooms, this means a full house. They tend to enjoy rosé sippage and nibbles late into the night which keeps me up when I need to be asleep for work.
Normally I stay over the road at a friends house but he too has friends visiting at the moment which renders me homeless. Either that or I have to share a bed with my mum and become increasing irritable with their keraaazy late night drinking antics. (I am trying to remember who is the parent here).

So for the next week, I will be couch-surfing, which is fun.

This provides me with a couple of advantages.

1. I get to catch up with friends who I do not normally dedicate enough time to.

b. I get to spend limited time with the mum and her friends. A little harsh perhaps but mum on her own is fine, a week with her friends is not. I have the excuse to leave early as after all, I cannot treat my other friends' couches like hotels.

The other great thing about having a two bedroom place is that my friends can come and stay and the size of the place makes it very sociable. That said, my mum has developed this annoying habit of ironing and making up her bed when she leaves.
This means that when she returns, I have to iron her bastard-very-hard-to-iron enormous sheets and duvet cover. Utter Crap.