There is No More Cake.

[puddingcat]

And good grief, I want cake.

---

The effect of having gone through CBT* is that my "negative thoughts" get put into words, for ease of being custard-pied into insignificance. And so I end up with phrases stuck in my head. Phrases such as,

"When you're as short as I am, an extra inch can make an awful lot of difference".

*shakes head to dislodge thought, unsuccessfully*

---

nannyo and I found nearly naked men in skirts last weekend in York, without even looking for them. No shoes worth buying, but lots of nearly naked men, wrestling. With small whips, which they were using hard enough to leave weals on each other. Blimey.

---

Got steamingly drunk on Thursday at the tax barbecue** but managed to avoid a hangover by dint of drinking Hoegaarden followed by camomile tea at home. Missed Richard Hammond's explanations of why getting steamingly drunk is bad for you. ;'////~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ says Sausage, which pretty much sums things up.

---

Explored the wing chun school in Piccadilly and signed up for the intro course. I'm not entirely convinced; I like what I saw, I like the traditional style & lack of hard sparring, but I doubt it'll get me fit and help me lose the extra padding I've developed since breaking my wrist (see! That's why I was thinking about extra inches! Originally.)

---

Still feeling impoverished & sorry for myself. I know, technically, I'm well-off; the only debt I have is a mortgage (which is tiny, in all honesty), I have a car, and don't need to shop for bargain pasta at Kwik-Save, but I have No Savings and that hurts. Buying a new Celica would be an extravagance, but I can't afford to replace my heap of tin with anything more reliable. Seeing a 1986 Porsche for £4k last weekend didn't help, either; I could *just about* afford the finance, but have no garage. And a Porsche in Stockport would very soon become an empty parking space in Stockport. And I can't afford to move, cos I have No Money. And I couldn't even get Dad to look after such a Porsche on the grounds of "helping me to do it up now he's retired", cos he hates Porsches and thinks I need a nice, boring sensible car, and in any case would do all the work himself and tune the thing to within an inch of its life and decide it was far too dangerous for me and sell it again.

And I can't afford an iPod, or a digital camera, or a Tivo, or a holiday abroad, or to retake my bike test & keep the pass certificate this time.

Gah.

{end whine}


* That's the therapy version of CBT. As opposed to the motorbike version. Or the kinky version.

** Not, unfortunately, barbecuing tax practitioners, or even Butterworths books.

Comments

Money

[dragonmamma.livejournal.com]

Yes I agree, lack of money SUCKS. The trouble is the best cure is retail therapy and then you have less money .......
I think if I live on about £12.00 per week for food for the next 5 years (providing I stay in work) I might have got 1 small debt off my back and be able to look at the rest with the hope that they may have been written off in the meantime. At least that's the sensible way of looking at it. If I have a life then I will need to earn some extra money for that and STILL be in the above position in 5 years time. Oh well its my own fault for getting so deeply in debt in the first place, but its really depressing when you are trying to get your life back to face the reality of that level of poverty.

Re: Money

[puddingcat.livejournal.com]

See, that's why I feel bad about whining about minimal money. I'm so much better off than I could be, and better off than lots of my friends. What's hurting is the drop in disposable income & standard of living; 2 years ago, I could buy what I wanted (within reason) and not worry. Now, a CD / DVD a month feels like a luxury.