Three little birds sat on my window and they told me I don't need to worry.

The washing machine ate another one of my socks again!
I hope it chokes on all the odd socks it's swallowed since I've been using it!

I appear to have mastered the art of ironing. I have a couple of pairs of jeans and a pair of combats that never...never look any good, even after I've spent a painstaking amount of time working the iron over and over and over them. Most of the other stuff would come out fine, but these few things just used to stare up at me from the ironing board with a creased up grin and I would reach the point of defeat. No longer though....I've found a new, improved way of getting those stubborn creases out and the sad thing is....all it took was a gentle extra spray of water.
Simple things eh?
One of my work shirts has pale white stains on it. This is not good. I think it might be something to do with the deodorant I'm using, but the weird thing is, it's not all by where I would expect it to be. It's like....little splashes and speckles all over the front. Maybe it's something to with the washing powder I've used. The worrying thing is, it actually looks not unlike somebody has got over-excited and 'shot their load' all over me. I would surely remember such an occurrence! It's going back in the wash anyway, stupid shirt.

I only didn't get around to phoning the financial company because they close at 8pm and by the time I'd finished everything else, it was too late. It can wait until tomorrow.
As can filling my fridge and food cupboard with something. I put that down to the simple fact that I find food boring and the thought of walking up and down aisles in a shop, looking at food, checking prices, choosing food, changing my mind....well, it's about as appealing for me as locking my front door and listening to Barry Manilow on full volume.

I'm not saying my dream last night was fucked up or anything, but holy shit....how many other people can say they've dreamt about their ex girlfriend and Madonna. No kidding. I can remember standing in the street, talking to her about things, then suddenly, around the corner comes this huge black limo. When I say huge, I mean huuuuuge. Out stepped some burly looking bodyguards, followed by Madonna, who then dominated my dream by talking to me about relationships and giving me advice about my love life for what felt like an eternity. In fairness, I just wanted her to shut up and do an impromtu song and dance, but alas, it never materialised.
How come if it's my dream, people don't do what I really want them to do? Damn unfair if you ask me.
I can't even remember thinking about Madonna or my ex last night. Or in the past week or so, for that matter.
And no....I didn't have any cheese before I went to sleep either.

Oh, and it snowed today. Or rather tried to snow, but the wet ground meant it didn't settle.
I love the snow.