Share and Share Alike

My oh my I've had a good day. I would like to rate it ten out of ten. I've had an epic weekend too, all is very very very good in the land of Constanzoidiaopolotown. Too good. What happened I hear you yodel? Well, some of my mateys came around to my flat and ate all my cheese and played Monopoly with me. And I met a cute robin. And I went to Staffordshire by accident. Aaaaand I got a free prawn sandwich. And the rain washed away all the sick outside my front door (not mine, I should add). And so much other stuff that if I made a list it would stretch to the moon and back and then all the way around my fat bum three hundred times and I have had too much good mood sugar and I really need to go to bed.

Today was the best though because I felt super awake and actually did some hardcore stamp stuff at work AND I got to and from work for FREE THAT'S FIVE QUID OF EXTRA CHEESE MONEY. Basically the phrase 'honesty is the best policy' really came into action; I was on the train home when the ticket man came round and pointed out that my season ticket expired yesterday and I was very embarrassed and apologetic and he let me off on the condition that I bought a new season ticket when I got off at the station (I felt terrible, only bad people get on trains without tickets). Then I explained what had happened to the guys at the the ticket barrier at Stockport and they let me through and I wandered through Stockport station towards the ticket buying office. I went to the man serving and told him my story of stupidness and he said oh so you want a new one from tomorow then and I was like BUT THEN I'VE STOLEN A DAY'S TRAVEL THAT'S BAD but he insisted on doing it from tomorrow and giving me a free day's travel. But why? Because he was so utterly astounded at how honest I'd been, at how I could have very easily walked out of the station without paying for today's travel. This story confuses me a lot because it never crossed my mind to not go and pay, it's pretty depressing that most people are willing to commit little crimes and that it was mind-bogglingly rare for someone to just own up. And also that I am stupidly honest but sometimes that pays off even though I did a stupid thing and somehow got rewarded for it. I don't know. All I do know is that I was REWARDED WITH CHEESE MONEY OH YEAHHH.

But if only this weekend would behave itself quite as much. Basically I registered at a new GP surgery in Stockport a few days ago but because I have around twenty million repeat prescriptions and quite possibly the most complex medical history of every 22 year old person ever to grace the surgery's patient roll I can't just go in and register. Oh no. They have to see me so they can look at my list of medications and then look at me and go oh dear what the fuckbother did you do to your organs and laugh inside. So I have to go back and I thought I'd won the jackpot though when I managed to get an AMAZING SATURDAY APPOINTMENT so I didn't have to miss any work (yeah, I know, I like work, how weird am I?) but now I can't make my AMAZING SATURDAY APPOINTMENT because I'm going to Derbyshire. So tomorrow I have to cancel it. And rebook it for spaghetti only knows when because all I do is sleep and look at stamps and I don't really want to sacrifice either of those. But I probably should because I already had to give up my physiotherapy to go to work and if I keep giving up medical stuff then I'll die. Mustn't die. Definitely a no no no no not.

But yeah. Cancer is odd. I get the feeling I might be forever alone because of it (or because I think it's appropriate to challenge people to sword fights on dates, I don't know), these last two weeks have really reminded me that leukaemia really isn't as sexy as I've tricked myself into believing. It's just me and my hot water bottle. Forever. Me and my beautiful hot water bottle. My beautiful hot water bottle and I. We can have the sweetest hot water bottle babies and I can make them all sandwiches for when they go to school and when my hot water bottle comes home from work I'll have a delicious hot meal on the table and we can grow old in a world of rubber and pink frills. Losing the plot. The dreamily handsome guy I stare at on the train has vanished. I don't even understand how to flirt because I'm just nice to everyone and then the people I actually want to share my boobs with just think I just like them as a friend like I like everyone else. And also "HI I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE MY BOOBS WITH YOU" is the worst conversation starter ever. It's all Jimmy Carr's fault for being so slow at turning up at my door and marrying me! Blame everything on Jimmy. Sorted.

Life is good though. I thought about Gdansk a lot today and Poland. I really want to live in Poland. I really want a holiday. Somewhere lovely and cold and Eastern European because I'm secretly Russian and I am an icicle and I want to paddle in the sea of Okhotsk. I still sleep with my window open every night, all the way through this freezing weather. Maybe I'll freeze solid and defrost in a time when cancer is just a memory and everyone pays their train fares :)

SLEEP NOW.

Constanze the Jolly the Great :) xXxXxXxXx

P.s My hickman line scar leaked a bit of pus a few days ago which was weird. I really don't fancy that getting infected because it's a really deep scar and then my head might fall off and I'm really weak and pathetic and I'l not sure I could carry the weight of my head around all day and I'd have to drag it around on a lead and then it would get all scratched and bleedy and it would hurt and make me sad :(

P.p.s Tonight I had one of those evenings where I go through my fridge and find everything in my fridge that's nearly out of date and force myself to make a meal out of it so nothing is ever wasted except all the things never go together and now my stomach is confused by the peculiar mix of udon, Wensleydale, chilli pasta sauce and parsnips. I felt really well today as well, why did I have to ruin it? It's always food. I am a rational woman until it comes to food. Or footwear. Oh bugger it, I'm just a mental :D

P.p.p.s Sometimes distance is a blessing. And sometimes it's a curse.

P.p.p.p.s He's drunk and I want to feed him water from the fountain of love.

P.p.p.p.p.s I don't know what they put in own brand ASDA food but I'm pretty sure it's LSD.