One Door Closes

I'd forgotten to post this week until a surprise letter arrived on my door. This morning I was rolling around in bed pretending to be partying in Versailles and I heard my letterbox go. I of course ignored it and went back to sleep. But then my grandad phoned me about 15 times and I decided the world was telling me to get the hell out of bed and stop thinking I'm a crocodile and DO SOME STUFF BITCHES. Not crocodile. Tortoise. Hoover. Kidney. I don't know. Where's Thursday? I've had a few too many beers and a few too few eats this evening so my grey matter is somewhat splodgey. Ssh brain.

ANYWAY. THE LETTER. KEEP ON TRACK CONSTANZE. It's from the egg storage unit. My first five years of egg storage is up and they've sent me the consent form so I can store them for another five. After that EU law says they must be destroyed. That means I'm HALFWAY THROUGH KIDS. Halfway through the time-period-in-which-you-can-have-you-own-motherfucking-children time period. Jesus christo maximum bistro. It kind of hit me like a tonne of bricks. Five years ago age 28 seemed a million miles away but now it's.... scarily close. HALFWAY. I really can't see myself wanting kids in the next five years. I really really can't. It's a push that I'd ever want them but in the next five years? I just want stamps. No children. I want the sex but I don't want my fanny ruining by some giant crying ball of excrement. I want to climb trees and laugh at people in suits and use a paintbrush far more times than is necessary. Not be responsible for a minor. I AM A MINOR. NO. YES. I am a very mature and responsible minor with a career and a flat who also likes tipping a whole tube of Smarties into their mouth at once.

I know I can still adopt and all that palava but it's just this odd scenario that pervades. All this making decisions a decade before they're normally made and so much talk of children and fertility when I'm really not at that point in my life. This evening was a great example, I had a few beverages, went to McDonalds, ordered three adult meals, pretended to be Gandalf on a zebra crossing and told an innocent couple in the lift that children don't even like hats so why should I bother (I wasn't following either, this is one of the problems of being super clever is that parts of my brains are having thoughts that the other parts of my brain can't keep up with and they all try to override each other and it just comes out like a stroke of alien lingustics). I'll keep my eggs for another five years but they'll just collect dust.

On Monday I'm off to the Hallamshire for my general "Let's put everything we can up your vagina to have a poke around your ovaries and see if they're asleep or just trolling" tests and also maybe have the coil put in and maybe have that polyp removed. I have no clue. As you know I have given up on my reproductive system. Like the world has given up on Justin Beiber. WHY DO I EVEN HAVE A POLYP. I am not 50 years old. I really hope I can keep it in a little jar or something. I don't have any parts of my body pickled.

The rest of my life is pretty lovely right now though, turns out I might have a career after all. AND I have a carpet, I did some hoovering (gasp) and now you can see the floor. I hoovered up all the smelly things from the past year that have been bringing me down. 2014 is going to be epic and wonderful, especially now I'm approaching my five year anniversary which really will be something special. I'm so chuffed to have made it this far. Like really, really chuffed. 44% of people make it to five years. That number is always rolling around my head. I've won the lottery of life. Mofolotz.

Speaking of winning the lottery, I went to Poland and the Czech Republic for a little jolly and it was brill. Warsaw was really cold and snowy and I stayed in an amazing hotel and went to the Technology museum and the Army museum and saw weapons and then I went on a train to Katowice and then in a minibus to Ostrava and went to a truck stop with my driver somewhere on the border and drunk beverages and then spent a night in a hotel in the roughest place ever (quote whatever you do don't go outside at night) before getting the train over to Brno to look at an exhibiton of rocks and see an amazing and creepy giant replica of Bethlehem and jesus and stuff. And get a little tipsy and not seduce a waiter because I was more interested in the special Czech pop music hour. Beautiful.

But yeah. Sleepytime now before I write any more tipsy and embarassing things. Have a tip top evening homiezzzzz :)

Constanzistan :) xXxXxXx