Desperate emo post of doom

I feel horribly, horribly alone.

See Ailbhe.

See Ailbhe flail.
Flail, Ailbhe, flail!
Ailbhe flails in a pit of self-pity and gloom.

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I need to get up off my considerable arse and eat, drink, finish dressing and feeding the children, remake Linnea's bed, empty and refill the dishwasher, hang laundry and wash bedding, and in general be all productive and useful and stuff.

Wish me luck. It's got to be better than wallowing in misery.

Seri's Wheelchair

£1103.55 = 48%

My hero with sweet-and-sour pork

Rob is fabulous again; he came home (late, because of a broken bike chain, which is always worrying because that can very nearly be a nasty accident) and immediately went out again and bought Chinese takeaway so we don't have to worry about dinner. It's made of 100% additives and junk, which is exactly right for my mood.

I still feel fairly low, but I have people to look after me now, so I'll be ok.