There are signs all over the place. My trousers all all too tight. There are three loads of washing on the floor next to the washing machine. Dust everywhere. Boxes in the hallway that need breaking down and recycling. The library books are overdue. I ate a whole bag of Choco Crunchy for breakfast, in the Aldi carpark. There’s no face wash left. My eyebrows need threading. And last night I protested and whined as Mr Bell insisted we change the sheets at 11pm. I’d broken a jiffy bag at 9.30am and accidentally spread that nasty grey filling over the bed. Worryingly I could see nothing wrong in sleeping amongst grey fluff. It’s kind of fitting. It’s how I feel. A bit grey and fuzzy and horizontal.
Why has the Bell household gone to ruin? Well, I have a deadline. It’s self imposed. No-one is making me complete anything. But I know the deadline is there, it stares at me. Mocks me. I feel like a teenager again, trying to avoid revising, though this time it’s rather more eating too much and perusing the Daily Mail gossip section online as displacement activities, than reading Adrian Mole novels and searching for blackheads. God alone knows how teenagers with access to the internet get any revision done at all. They are all clearly geniuses.
Here’s a lazy recipe as if to prove my lazy ass state.
I made some of my brownies and added in a good handful of banana chips. See I told you it was a lazy recipe. Now, where’s that 5th bag of Choco Crunchys?
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