WISHY WASHY DEGU DOSHY

Following last week's short and [the opposite of] sweet post, I shall endeavour to write a little more, even though I can feel myself falling further and further under the weather! Lets not waste any more time. This week I have learnt that:

ONE] If you don't visualise AND ask, you don't get: Its fair to say that something I thought improbable has
         happened, which should see me less stressed at least for the next two weeks. Think of a sticky situation

         and something that would get you out of it. That could happen sooner  and easier than you think. I realise

         this is all rather Murder She Wrote but i'll probably divulge more information within the next few weeks. All I

         know is that after losing my appetite this lunchtime from feeling a little poorly, I deserve 

         gargantuan celebratory pizza, or something of the sort. It's bound to fix me. But yes, pretty much anything

         is possible if you want it bad enough. And yes I want that pizza pretty bad.

Couldn't find a single eyelash,

so here's around sixty to wish on (from THIS website)

TWO] Baby degus can have..babies: Yes, a fact i'll bet most of you didn't know, but one that I discovered this
          week after our famous Cinnamon had FIVE baby degus, with a labour time of around six hours [that's

          as long a flight to somewhere pretty far away]. The most baffling part of this story is the fact that Holly
          took the degus home when they were only a few weeks old, meaning that some rather naughty boy degus
          [also babies] must have broken into their cage and had some..fun. For weeks Cinnamon was getting larger
          and larger [she had a bum Kim Kardashian would have been proud of], eating more and more food and

          moving less and less [All tell-tale signs of degu pregnancy]. But no, Holly believed Cinnamon merely had
          bad wind, to explain the moving ripples on her tummy. BAD WIND? Just be aware if you are about
          to take in some seemingly innocent baby degus. They like themselves and the company of others so

          much that they need to be surrounded by more as soon as physically possible.

"Five baby degus sitting in a tree.." That's probably not even inappropriate at this age, 

the slags!

And here's a close-up of two sleepy ones.

A bit too cosy for my liking!

THREE] Phone companies hate me: 'Hate' may be a strong word, but really, they do. I feel as though I change

             company as often as my shampoo in the hope that the next one is miraculously more caring than

             the last [to my phone]. Alas, I am failed every time. Today will see me taking back my phone for the
             third time since February, most of which happened within the last three months. The annoying thing is
             it has to do with exactly the same problem. If I don't come back with a completely new phone on the
             spot [or at least something for free] I will be writing a rather damning piece on this blog naming and
             shaming, along with the letter I'm going to send to Mr Big. RANT OVER. Back to your texting.

This is how I have felt about my phone since February.

This weekend sees me wishing my mom a Happy Birthday in person, something she now knows about [it was a surprise] because of the emotional damage she did to me over the phone whilst thinking that my boyfriend and I weren't coming up. KNEES UP.

STANLEY

x