Feed me...

Another quiet day at Binland interspersed with pieces of daft paperwork.  Why people always want the most crazy bits of information a week before Christmas is beyond me.  I have come to the conclusion that they are probably as bored as I am and are just looking for something to do.  

Anyway, it was a big disappointment at Binland today.  As I said earlier in the week, edible delights have been making a regular appearance in the Transport Office, and remembering this today, I didn't have any breakfast this morning, basically to leave room for whatever was on offer.  Well ladies, you can just imagine my horror when nothing appeared throughout the morning, and my stomach was almost labelled a noise nuisance as the morning wore on.  I managed to leave my lunch alone until 11.41.  Master P and I have an unwritten rule in the Sales Cupboard which is that no lunch should be even looked at till at least 12.00.  I'm not saying that he was in the same boat as me, but at around 10.30 he tottered down to the kitchen with his lunch and hid it in the fridge in the hope that he wouldn't eat it till after the midday hour.

The sandwich barely touched the sides, and on the drive home, I was very relieved to find a half eaten pack of Party Rings in my glove box.  They'd been there for at least two weeks, and were slightly soft, but desperate times and all that.

This afternoon I had to venture into town to pick up my 'free' glasses for work which cost me £109.  I am still trying to work out how that happened, and having spent five minutes going through the receipt with the sales assistant today, she had the audacity to suggest that it might be a good idea to put my new glasses on so that I could see what she was going on about.  Hands up at this point.  I'd left my old glasses in my handbag as I knew I would be picking the new ones up, and there's a good chance I was getting stroppy about yesterday's Aldi receipt (slightly more than Specsavers one, but hey, I never expected the food to be free).

I'm now back at home for another seventeen minutes before going to my favourite beauty salon, so that Mrs H can hoist my face up a few centimetres in preparation for the Christmas shenanigans.  Looking at my face in the mirror before going, I decided that this afternoon she was going to need industrial strength equipment to achieve any kind of improvement.

She'll need a suitable tip I reckon...


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