Babies

Luke and I have been talking for a while about having kids. Ever since we got married, the question has been brought up, nou just by us but by friends, by family. I don't really know what I think. Part of me is desperate to have a child. I see their fat cheeks, their long eyelashes, their soft hugs, and that's all I want. Not to mention the fact that if I had one, I wouldn't have to work for ages. And I'd get loads of attention. The right kind of attention. But another part of me can't deal with having kids

Bleurgh

Went out with a friend last night; yes, I would have preferred to sit on the sofa, but I am trying to do things differently. That's the point.

It was actually a lot of fun. I thought we wouldn't have much to talk about, but we chatted all night. I think the wine helped. I now feel horrendous.

The only thing worse than my job is my job with a hangover - literally the only thing stopping me killing everyone in here today is the amount of energy I would need to expend to do so.

Off to my parents house in the deepest darkest middle of nowhere for Easter weekend. Expect gin and tonics, arguments, and smoking out of the bathroom window a la Bridget Jones.

Back on Tuesday folks....

Nothin' Sweet About Bee....

Sorry...that title's been scratching at my head for ages, had to come out eventually. Which is particularly annoying since the song that inspired it is one of the most inane, annoying songs of the year. But it's done now.

Luke is always telling me how sweet I am. I suspect this is largely because I am so small. I also have a tendency to become quite childish when not getting my own way - fortunately for me this makes him laugh, and not strangle me with my own hair.

However, there is a difference between being superficially sweet - pink Tshirts, blonde hair, pouty lips - and being properly sweet. Sweet on the inside. That is definitely not me.

There follows a list of things that are definitely not "Sweet about Bee". Try not to judge me.

1. I am the most selfish person you will ever meet. I rarely do anything for altruistic reasons; I never give money to charity, I rarely put money into the envelope for leaving presents at work, I don't bother spending time with people unless absolutely necessary. I prefer my own company - I don't judge myself.
   
   
2. I never phone anyone. I never call my mum, or my dad; I absolutely never call friends for a chat. More often than not, if someone is calling me 'just for a chat' and for no specific purpose, I will reject the call.
   
   
3. I am a kleptomaniac. I steal things because I can. Usually, things I don't even want, or need - a mascara from a bathroom at a party, a cheap Topshop bracelet from a friend's bedroom. Nothing high value - that's not the point - it's more a sense of entitlement. Why should they have what I don't. Never mind that I could easily go out and buy it for myself.
   
   
4. I have cheated on every partner I have ever been with. Except Luke. I plan to keep it that way, but it's not a very good record.
   
   
5. I am incredibly lazy. I read about all these women that want to further their career, do something to improve the world - or at least their world - and all I want to do is sleep, go on holidays, drink cocktails. I couldn't give a monkeys about my job - or any other job.
   

I could go on, but I think the picture is becoming clear. Ok, so I'm an obnoxious, horrible, lazy slob. And your point is...?

(Oh, and in a happy footnote, it seems you can ignore my last post because the lovely Mimi appears to be writing again...thank god for indecisiveness.)

Mimi

One of the reasons I started blogging was that I've read some amazing blogs over the years. I know that mine is relatively crap compared to most of them, but they still inspired me to write my thoughts down, to chronicle what is happening in the world of me.

So I was very sad to note at the weekend that one of the blogs I devoured the most hungrily, the wonderful Mimi in New York, appears to be no more.

I actually met Ruth, Mimi's creator, about a hundred years ago when staying with friends in a little corner of Wales. She terrified me. Skinny, quick, beautiful and vicious. I was completely in awe - and don't think I said more than about five words to her in the whole two weeks I was there.

When I began reading Mimi, I had no idea that this was the same girl. Mimi was an amazing character - she had done so much and seen so much in her life. It was only when the blog's popularity grew, and Ruth unmasked herself in a series of interviews and photos, that I realised she was the same girl. I nearly fell off my chair. Since then I have read even more avidly, checking every day for an update into this exciting life that I could only dream of, but that had happened to someone so unlikely.

And now, Ruth appears to have stopped. It's such a shame, although I understand why she's done it. I hope that one day soon she finds a reason to start again.

I'll just have to content myself with her book for the time being...

Alone

I am having a crisis.

It's taken me a while to come back to this blog, because I was just living, just getting through the day and out of the door. It's taken me over a month to get to the point where I can admit that it's all going wrong. But it is.

I haven't a clue what started it. One day, I was getting up, going to work, coming home, hanging out with people, laughing. The next, I couldn't drag myself out of bed. I started getting into work later and later, wearing less and less make-up until I gave up altogether, wearing clothes I had worn the day before because, lying on the floor next to my bed, they were the closest to hand.

In the office, I have been doing nothing. All day every day. We are quiet at the moment anyway because of the recession, but I still have things sitting on my desk. Little things - tasks that would take half an hour at the most. But I can't bring myself to do them, and instead I lie awake at night worrying about the fact that they're so overdue and wondering when I will get caught.

Luke has been working long hours, and I have been getting home, throwing some food in the oven, and sitting down with a bottle of wine in front of the tv. Washing up sits undone until we completely run out of mugs. Bills are unpaid. The whole house needs a good clean, especially since my parents in law are coming to stay this weekend.

I really want to snap myself out of this. I do. I wake up in the morning full of good intentions, but then the weight of the day bears down on me and they all fall by the wayside. My car tax needs renewing. I'm not entirely sure the car is still insured. These are things that MUST be sorted out - but the thought just makes me want to go back to bed.

The worst thing of all though, the loneliest feeling, is that nobody knows about my crisis except me. No one - not even my husband - has any idea how I'm feeling. Although I'm late for work every day and don't do a thing, no one has noticed. Although I'm always half-cut when he gets home, and dinner is usually burnt, Luke hasn't noticed. And I certainly haven't had the energy to socialise recently - so none of my friends have noticed.

Things are still good between Luke and I - he puts my irrational behaviour down to me being tired, and since I just want to spend most of my time lying in bed with his arms around me, this works quite well. I still love him more than anything. And I know he feels the same way about me. But even so.

I really feel alone.

Deja Vu

Typical bloody day. Work. Rain. Cruella deciding to 'work from home' which means I have to work twice as hard to cover her stuff as well as my own, while she sits on the sofa eating toast. I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't for the fact she's on twice my salary and does this about once a week, thus working 4 day weeks for full-time pay.

If I think about it too much I will scream.

Need to do something calming.

My Bloody Valentine

So, I have been conspicuously absent the last couple of days. Not just from the blog, but really just 'checked out'. Luke and I attended an 'Anti Valentines Ball' on Saturday. Very romantic. Or, more accurately, very drunken. Somehow by the time we got home on Sunday morning I had lost a shoe, seven out of ten acrylic nails, and was wearing my sexy red corset the wrong way round.

Sunday was thus spent prone on the sofa. Literally, all day.

Monday, back in the office, I managed to do very little (as usual), attract no attention (as usual) and escape early (not that usual, but still a fairly regular occurrence). Lu and I were meeting friends for dinner at 8:00, but since I was home by 4:30, I had quite a lot of time to wait. I was so tired, and not in the mood for going out, so I thought I'd have a tiny glass of wine to perk myself up a bit.

By the time I met everyone in the pub, I was feeling very perky. I'd managed to finish the whole bottle of wine while watching Project Runway. A lovely meal, two gin and tonics and the best part of another bottle of wine later, I was still in an excellent mood as Luke and I made our way home. A less excellent mood this morning though, it must be admitted.

Occasionally it occurs to me that if I can drink a whole bottle of wine without my husband noticing any symptoms, there is either something wrong with me, or something wrong with our marriage, but the thought is swiftly dismissed.

Also, this week I have been mostly discovering Twitter...very diverting.