Oh my god, I’m tired. Like: obscenely so. I got home from work yesterday around 4.30pm and went straight up to bed, where I dozed until 8ish when M came home, and then properly went off for the next around ten.
Rock n roll, baby.
No lie in courtesy of the hairdresser call (it looks lovely – yay for prettified hairs, even if it did take five bloody hours), and now I’m home I feel exactly the same, at exactly the same time; exhausted. Even my bones feel tired.
I cleaned the bedroom; wiped down the windows, swept the floor, feather-dusted, dusted and polished. And that’s it, friends. I have done nothing else. Just watched a couple of shows on planner in order to clear the Sky+/DVR box, and then a couple of The Offices on Netflix. That’s it. I’m now just waiting for my dinner, chiefly so that I can change into my jammies and go to bed. And I’m not even embarrassed.