Well, no, I don't have an Advent calendar still. I nearly bought one at a service station on the A1 at 1am this morning but I didn't want to look at it every day in the build up to Christmas and smell Ginsters and misery.
It pretty much has to go straight into Christmas on the 1st December because something has to happen to pick me up after the crushing loss of all those beautiful moustaches. I love a good moustache. Obviously it was a really unsettling day when mine went from being a faint insecurity to a visible intrusion but that's nothing a good dose of bleach, a bottle of wine and an evening of me time can't fix.
There has actually been a slight upset to my 1st December joy. This morning I found out I am being cheated on. It's quite the mood killer when you're trying to get into the Christmas spirit.
I know what you're thinking, "Laura, you're not even in a relationship - I think your hallucinations are getting out of control. Get some rest and come back when you're lucid." But that's where you'd be wrong.
Since October 2010 I've been living with someone and I thought we were really happy together and I thought it was going beautifully. This morning, in a completely unprovoked bubble puncture, I found evidence of playing away on the coffee table. ON THE FREAKING COFFEE TABLE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Why rub it in my face? Fine. You're not totally satisfied with me. Tell me. I can change it up a bit or maybe we need to talk about some different "recipes" but does it really need to be this cruel when it happens? I don't really understand how the people who are supposed to love you the most can be the ones who always end up fucking you over. On my own bastard coffee table.
I literally feel sick. I haven't even been able to put it in the bin. I'm not sure if it's meant to provocation, whether I'm supposed to be the one to mention it...?
This is what I woke up to this morning: