Day three of the sore throat life. Soothers’ Butter Menthols are far better than Strepsils at taking the edge off. Less medicinal and more flavourful.
Sick of eating soupy, throat friendly stuff so having supermarket shepherd’s pie tonight, which is, when you think about it, basically a thick mince and potato soup. Oh, found my USB adapter, so here’s some grapefruit.
Had to call a mechanic today, so immediately turned into a small child on the phone: I fink there’s somefink wrong wif my car. Can you fix it, pwease, mister?
Seems like finding another car has gone from being a leisurely just taking my time activity to a right here right now crisis. I’m trying to approach it like playing a game — do the research, check the stats, make a choice then roll the dice. It’s fun, he tells himself. The thing is, in the used car buying game you don’t find out whether your roll was good or bad until some time later, when the radiator fails or the back hatch refuses to open.
Using italics in strange ways in this entry. Will it stick or will it fade?