I may be a wee bit drunk. (Snigger)
I went out to lunch with my neighbour. Lunch turned out to be code for cheesecake and wine. (Nummy.) It might be the second bottle talking (or the third) but I love my neighbour.
She’s funny and nice and very chipper with just the right amount of cynical so as not to be irritating. (Although she does talk an awful lot about her baby.)
You know what else is great about her. She thinks that my life is exciting. Not the work stuff, she doesn’t know about that. As far as she’s concerned I work in a boring office where I am often underappreciated or out of my depth. (Which is actually pretty true.) No she just thinks my life is exciting by comparison to hers.
She is a single mum. She spends her days handling nappies filled with things I dare not think of and listening to her screaming child as she tries to smile and do the “choo choo train” with a tiny plastic spoon filled with gunk, which invariably ends up in her hair.
Plus there’s the fact that her mother practically lives with her, always looking extremely disapproving of everything around her.
My life suddenly feels positively glamorous. (Except for cleaning my cat box and the occasional hairball.) I feel like one of those fabulous single girls on TV, I can stay out late, drink as much as I want, have one night stands with a series of random men and have parties all the time.
I of course do none of these things.
But I could if I wanted to…
…which come to think of it I really don’t.
