The one thing my rundown little cottage doesn’t have is a bath. I love a nice bath. With bubbles. And nice smelly stuff. But no candles. Because I’m not a girl. It’s nice to read in the bath. On occasions, I have smoked in the bath. I have eaten in a bath too. Baths + Connor = Sinful Luxury
I have just taken a week-long bath. A bath of self-pity. I have panicked about college and about money. I have no idea if I can actually control my spending enough to stay afloat. Now that my ATM card is both chopped up and melted, I can only get at my money if I go to the bank and present my driving licence. I did that so many times in the last week that I have now failed to make my October loan repayment. No doubt I’ll get a friendly call from those nice people in Bank of Ireland Credit Operations any day now.
I haven’t eaten well or slept well and I’ve eaten far too much.
I’ve also sat on my glasses twice.
Thanks be to God for this blog. In the last 24 hours, the blog has had 109 hits. Pretty much everyone in my life will know if I fail, so it’s just not an option.
So, here we go again. I’ve got my trusty little notebook out again. I’ve shaved. I’m in the middle of scrubbing the house from top to bottom. I have my porridge ready-measured for the morning, and my driver’s licence is no longer in my wallet.
I am the ultimate boy who cried “wolf”. How many more times will anyone believe me when I say that today is a new start?
To be honest, it doesn’t matter. This has got to get done.
Wish me luck. And keep an eye on the blog. Happier, success-laden posts coming your way soon.