Off to work we go

Thanks to those of you who posted comments and sent messages in response to my last post. (Special mention to my lovely friend Angela who emailed me that I rock and that I'm a superfox (apparently that's terminology from 'He's just not that into you') and checked in on me by text on Saturday night to make sure I was OK. You rock! You're a superfox!)

I'm pleased to report that my pity party is officially over - I went to see Babel last night and all of a sudden I'm feeling a lot better about my life. (I imagine I'm the only person who came out of the theatre feeling uplifted...)

Yep, I've picked myself up, brushed myself off, deleted Finlay's number from my phone and I'm ready to move on. In fact, I was all set to 'take care of the quantity' and sign up for speed dating tomorrow night but the website wouldn't let me and on second thought I decided that a brief man-break wouldn't be a bad thing. Take some time to cleanse the palate between courses, so to speak.

I am depressed over something new today though - I had to go back to work! After a glorious month's holiday of doing pretty much stuff all, I actually had to get up at a reasonable hour and be productive for something approaching a full 8 hours. And my commentary on that is something along the lines of 'icky... me no like'.

Oh to be a woman of independent means...