motivation for fatcats and possibly fatcat chumlies.

Urgh.If there's anything worse than being woken up on a rainy Saturday to the less than dulcet warbling of Dvid bloody Bowie I'd like to know what it could possibly be. Honestly 'in the heat of the morning' sounds like the bigger of the cats trying to get out a locked back door to me. Vile. Curse the paramour and his musical affections. But at least he made coffee and he swears he's about to make breakfast so I suppose I'll try to over look that wonky-eyed crooner for another while, at least until it becomes nails on a blackboard.
Ahoy! I have a confession to make, I have had a lazy arsed week and now I feel shame. Shame I tell you. I haven't been to the gym, I ran only once, a poodly noodly 12k that my dead Gamma could have done in her heels and mink. Naturally this will be the week everyone else has been amazing and energised and fantabulous and my shame will grow.
Next week will be better, next week I will go back to work and back to the gym and back to being good about food and hooch and what not. Next week. I pinky swear it.
Oh fuck this, now he's listening to Lloyd Cole, not even breakfast is worth that.