Devil woman

I'd like to take a moment or two to thank the woman that drove her car through a huge puddle/small lake on my way to the hypnotherapy dude yesterday, soaking me from the waist down and covering me in enough muddy water that my fabulous (as announced by lovely waiter in wagamamas) coat now needs dry cleaning. You evil, evil BITCH. This is a tamer version of what I actually shouted at her.

Two things about this really annoyed me. One - the three cars in front of her had actually slowed down and swerved out of the way of the puddle, and I saw her deliberately swerve into it, and two, she was a woman, now from a man I could almost kinda understand it, but from a woman? I hope your children turn out fat and ugly and that you never find another pair of comfortable shoes as long as you live, you rotten old hag.

Holiday (preparation) from hell

What was my favourite part of my 'relaxing' day off yesterday? Was it discovering that even though I thought I'd finished my freelance work, I actually had another two hours worth left to do? Realising that you need to buy your Euros a bit sooner than the day before you travel? Being soaked on my way to hypnotherapy and having to lie in soggy trousers whilst trying to conjure up positive thoughts about flying?

No, it was the bit when I ordered my holiday money, only to find out that if you order over £500 on a debit card with this company, you will automatically be classed as a 'fraud alert'. Now, this is great, it's actually nice and reassuring to know that if some scoundrel had made off with my purse, they wouldn't be able to jet off to Fiji with a suitcase full of dollars before it was too late to catch them. My gripe is - why the hell didn't this company put a disclaimer on their website?When I spoke to the call centre, they said very matter of factly that "it happens all the time". So why no warning? This would have saved me the nuisance of having my card turned down in shops later that day, and a visit to the bank, and a call to the fraud hotline to sort it all out. And we still have no holiday money!

The wrong trousers

Every Saturday to distract myself from the fact that I am at work, I buy myself lunch from Eat. Mmmm, they do the yummiest everything, ever. Every week I walk in there and look the three cheese and caramalised onion sandwich in the eye and say "Oh no my little calorific friend, I'm going for one of your healthier relatives" and I usually have something involving roasted veg and it is (as are all their sandwiches) divine.

Last Saturday my alarm didn't go off, so I woke up thirty minutes before I needed to leave the house. This is the second time that this has happened in recent weeks, and quite frankly if the clock wasn't from Queenstown NZ, I'd be taking it back all in a huff. Anyway, come lunchtime I was staaaaaaaaarving, which as those who know me know, is not an unusual occurrence. I am always hungry. But Saturday I was hungry AND grumpy, on account of me not actually being awake yet. So I looked at that cheese sandwich, and I thought "oh yes, your time has come". So I brought it, and I ate it. Then I ate some crisps. Then I ate a mango & greek yogurt thing. Then I had to phone home to get Mr Librarian to bring me some, ahem, more comfortable trousers when he came to meet me from work. You see, we were going to a birthday party and I didn't really want to have to go with my trousers open, just to be able to breathe.

There's an old family story about my mum, who after returning home from a particularly delicious and large meal out, undid her trousers to make things a bit less painful in the midrif area. It wasn't until she undid the trousers that she realised it wasn't her clothes that were tight, it was her skin. Saturday was one of those 'skin too tight' moments for me.

And the moral of this story? Don't be such a pig Lady Librarian. Lesson learnt. I'm back to the healthy boys this week. Or maybe I should just carry a spare pair of bigger trousers at all times?....