…have started muttering ‘people are f*cking stupid’ under your breath more than a few times a day (and sometimes a little louder than at muttering level)

…have finally got around to filing those 1K plus emails in your inbox and end up creating a ‘wtf’ folder because, well, because people are f*cking stupid, but that’s too long for a folder name

…have fallen asleep in yoga two weeks in a  row – and I don’t mean a 2 second doze – I mean rolling onto your side and having a nap long enough that the rest of the class have moved on to another part of the body when you manage to re join them

…have spent another night rushing around with a pyrex mixing bowl and magazine trying to rescue Norman’s newest playmate

…have met the parents of Himself AND his ex AND her new partner in the space of 4 days

…have made subtle inquiries about the size of trunks Himself wears, just to prepare yourself in case he is a budgie smuggler type of man

….have spent a good few minutes deleting and retyping the ‘ ‘ around ‘wtf’ in the second thingy above because it doesn’t look right, only to realise it’s because there is a black mark on the laptop screen which may or may not be some of the weetabix you had for breakfast…

When all that is the case, a holiday is required.  And yay!  That is exactly where I will be going in the early hours of Saturday morning (really, really early as Himself seems to have realised it will be easier to get to the airport three hours earlier than we need to be there, than to have me panicking from this point until we arrive.  He’s good, this one :o)

I’m crossing my fingers that going away with himself will reduce the disastrous aspects which seem to have followed me on recent holidays (accidental wisdom teeth surgery stitch removal followed by nearly breaking myself with exercise, typhoons, panic attacks 12 meters under water…you know the sort of thing I mean).  I’ll let you know :o)

That’s one bag packed…