Murphy's Law

In case you were wondering why I didn't post last Thursday and Friday - I was busy harbouring gloomy conspiracy theories. Never mind that last week began with a case of woman hits tarmac which gave my left knee the mother of all bruises. In spite of putting up a brave (read: arguably highly unprofessional and gravely exaggerated) fight which lasted for days, I got "promoted" to a job within Coma HQ which I so do NOT want. Then a colleague made a remark to FCN who of course promptly reported it to me, which pretty much floored me and added to the phenomenon of gut-clenching physical awfulness which hits me every morning and which gets worse the closer I get to the office. The last straw was my washing machine which surprised me yesterday morning by drenching me with fountains of sudsy water shooting out from the detergent compartment. Great. I can deal with household appliances dying on me on inopportune moments and me proving the universal law of gravitation every now and again, I can even deal with the Firm annoying the hell out of me occasionally, but I can not deal with all those things happening at the same time and me not having somebody (i.e. of the male persuasion, preferably with a soothing voice, warm hands and an addictive, equally soothing, smell, who's madly in love with me) to give me supportive hugs and comfort me with "there, there, everything will be all right" pep-talks in infinite loop. Who'd have thought.

Well, me, actually.

For lack of such a somebody, I certainly must not complain about a lack of good friends. On Saturday, the book club convened at my place, which provided the usual distraction and hilarity. S1 brought me chocolate (see above) saying "everything will be alright" which has become my new mantra.

Yesterday afternoon, the Mermaid's radar picked up my level of desperation on the phone and within minutes was at my doorstep to drag me out from Wallowing Central and postpone the final boarding call to Nervous Breakdown Resort. She's a star!