Much like Bob, I don’t like Mondays

I’m in a terrible grump. I can tell this because I am listening to ‘Adele’. And if you hear ‘Set Fire to Rain’ coming from a room, you know there are only two possibilities for what is going on in within those walls: melancholy or heavy petting. So unless my stuffed toy, Tony Bear, has intentions of which I am unaware, clearly I am having a bad day.

I think it is to do with my fella being in Libya for work. He says it’s for work anyway. Perhaps it’s just an elaborate way to escape hearing ‘Rolling in the Deep’ for a bit.

It’s proving pretty tricky to get in contact with him ‘cos apparently they have more important things to sort out over there than a stable broadband connection. When we did manage to speak, it was by satellite phone with a large delay resulting in us talking over one another as if we were taking part in a bad local radio phone-in. It was hard going especially when I kept treading on his serious sentences of ‘I can hear gunfire near to our compound’ with things like ‘I have my hair in a very pretty bun’.

Because it’s not as if I’m not interested in the uprising. I have me opinions. Hell yeh I do. Not to get too political on your arses, but in my mind Gaddafi is not only a war criminal and a tyrannical dictator, but he’s now also directly culpable for me not having any lights in my bathroom because I’m not tall enough to change the bulb. So I wish he’d just admit to being the loser, so my boyfriend with the long arms can return, because frankly, while thrilling at first, weeing in the dark is losing its novelty.

Right, there’s only one thing for it to elevate my inner grouch. A cup of tea, some spooning with Tony Bear and a musical change to some 80s Whitney Houston. Once I’ve done another head-torch enabled wee.