It has only felt like Autumn for about a week and yet I am deep in a seasonal transition funk.
For a little while I tried to find the joy in having the gel pedicure chiseled off my toes and returning to woolly socks, but it didn't work. Partly because I would honestly rather go to the dentist than submit to gel pedicure removal torture. It's ouchy and if you have been tempted to maximise your bang for pedicure buck, your nails underneath will look awful. Also, I havent done a wool wash in a long time, so all my favourite socks are languishing at the bottom of the laundry bag instead of looking all joyful and inspiring in my drawer. I know there is a simple solution to this, but indulge me, I'm feeling the urge to whine.
And eat.
Honestly. Monstrous amounts of the stodgiest food. I'm like some animal preparing to hibernate. Hubby caught me the other day muttering 'must have cake' like a mad woman, with only my backside visible as my head was thrust deep into the dark recesses of the kitchen cupboard in the effort to find some. And I've scoffed an awful lot of cheese. Which is bad because eating cheese gives me god-awful acne. I am currently sporting the face of a hormonal teenager (with added wrinkles, naturally).
And the real issue? I think winter is coming. And with it, being confined to barracks. And I'm not happy about it. There just aren't enough mini pumpkins in the world to make me feel cheerier. Cute though they are.
