I've done the housework, or as much as I'm going to, and spent some time playing on Real Buzz's 'map your passion' site, pretending that I am about to run 10 miles, and am now listening to number one son laughing at something on the haunted fishtank with his chum.
There's a mountain of paperwork to be done but, despite most people thinking I am naturally good at being organised, I hate even opening envelopes, let alone reading the contents. I hardly ever reply.
It is only three weeks to go before the GNR, so if I don't go out tonight I will have to go tomorrow. Problem is that I am too tired. It's all Stevie Wonder's fault.
There are now only about 170lbs of me, but I'd like to get rid of 5 more so I can eat like a pig every now and again without worrying that I have undone any of the hard work.
Throat still not right but Hipocrates's finest say all is as it should be so stop whinging. I spent about £300 on private health care, on top of the £60 a month premiums, to end up where I started. Not sure that's a great deal after all. Still, mustn't grumble however much fun it is.
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