I hate moving house. It feels like I’ve been packing since the discovery of fire. My flat isn’t even that big, really it’s pretty tiny but I’ve discovered through my packing, that I own, well….everything.
So I’m still packing.
Have also decided that, for the good of mankind I should give up on any meaningful relationship with any other human being outside my family and work. It’s not just that I have terrible taste in men; it’s that the consequences of my bad taste seem to be escalating. (I’m concerned that the next person who smiles at me will lead to the end of civilisation and that’s a lot of pressure.)
Haven’t been at work cause there’s been another security breach. They haven’t told me much about it but something was stolen and it’s related to the information that Daniel accessed using my computer clearance card. (Go me!)
I’ll be back tomorrow which is going to be pretty much the most humiliating day of my life. Except the time I had a mouthful of tea and needed to cough, tried to stifle it resulting in a tea explosion from behind my hand in every direction (this was in the middle of a morning meeting.)
Anyway, more packing to do.
