I’ve just put dinner on. It’s quite a posh feast: a tin of chicken in white sauce and a tin of meatballs mixed together and served with rice. It’s one of my signature dishes. People come from all over the country, the world even, to sample it.
Yes, it’s that good.
In other lonely news, I’ve downloaded an app that’s apparently dedicated to friendship, not romance. It doesn’t look good so far, however, as it has that Tinder system of requiring you to swipe left or right, depending on how you think a user looks. FFS. It also says, in a condescending way, that “first impressions are important”. Well, they are for business meetings and dates you hope to end in sex, but I’m looking for long-term friends. If I can’t be honest about myself up front, then what’s the point?!
I’ll give it a go for a week, then most likely delete it.
I predict it’s going to be a looong week.
My old school friend finally got back in touch. Apparently his phone wasn’t telling him about new messages. Think I’ve heard that one before. Just say “I’ve not felt very sociable, but I’m still here!”. A bit of honesty goes a long way. At least there’s still somebody I can be obscene with. He’s a rare breed, nowadays. I’m guessing that’s why we became friends thirty-five hairless years ago.
The council still hasn’t called about the new boiler being installed. Maybe they’ve forgotten about me. Figures. Still, I’m in no rush.
I’ve got an appointment with the nurse on Wednesday, so brace yourselves for that rant. I’m guessing I’ll be getting drunk later on that day.
My cyclothymia has decided it’s had enough of East Asian indie bands, so I’m now having to find a musical genre that compliments the new rules my mental illness has laid out for me.
People on that app really don’t know what they’re in for, do they?
Right, I best go stir my Michelin Star-worthy dinner.
Do swipe to the right, darlings.
Toodles!
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