It's what you do to me
13.09.07, 9:38 pm

If I watch that annoying Picture advert one more time I may have to just kill myself. The stupid Geordie woman is just too smug about her flippant attitude to borrowing money, particularly as she�s basically going to end up paying back twice as much as she took out. I personally think that that�s a pretty wanky idea.

The weekend was spent watching various sporting activities, which I read my book through most of, though we did go walking in the Peaks and Eccleshall Woods. I got tired after about 50 minutes of walking, which isn�t too bad, but it still frustrates me. I am not the most patient of people, and the ME gig is pretty much one long game of patience. And it�s BORING.

I�ve been with James for nine months now, which I�m so proud of. Whilst it�s not been all smooth sailing, mostly down to me and my ever-increasing heap o� issues, I can�t claim that any part of it has been hard work. We just fit. We haven�t had any harsh words, because he makes me want to compromise, rather than have an argument about something that doesn�t really matter anyway. Somehow he knows exactly when I start to feel tired, or if I�m feeling down, or if I need to be coaxed into talking about something crappy. He lets me nag him about his kitchen hygiene, doesn�t mind if I play the same song three times in a row in the car, and listens patiently to all my boring family troubles. He's the loveliest thing in the whole world and I still can�t quite believe that he�s all mine.

Last Friday we came the closest to an argument so far though. We were watching the rugby and I suddenly felt very hormonal � some horrible combination of annoyed and sad. The boy asked what was wrong, and I told him, and he then decided that the way to make me feel better was obviously to have a stab at sex. Which was so very far from what I felt like doing. When he realised this he said bluntly, �You�d better take your jeans out of the dryer� and then picked up his book and started reading it at the other end of the sofa, whilst I sat staring into space. This lasted all of five minutes though, before I suddenly felt inexplicably guilty and apologised, and then he said that he wasn�t annoyed anyway, and everything was fine. So really, if that�s the closest that we�ve come to arguing then we�re doing bloody well.

He still doesn�t understand hormones at all though, and seems genuinely flummoxed by them, despite me trying to explain on numerous occasions that they�re the devil incarnate and make me feel like everything in the entire world is a load of crap.

Crazy Extra Heartbeat Hijinks has surfaced once again, as I�ve started getting random beats all over the shop recently. I went to see the doctor on Monday, and settled in the waiting room as I was stupidly early. After about five minutes the bloke across from me handed me his Woman�s Weekly (December 2006) saying, �I think it�s meant for you more than me�. To which I took said magazine and replied, �Only just though�, and whilst I meant this in an �I�m not really old enough to be reading it� way, it may have sounded more like �You only just qualify as a male, matey�.

Anyway, the doctor asked me three million questions, listened to my heart, took my blood pressure and measured my pulse. All fine, which I�m very smug about as I have a big hatred of all things blood pressure. He said to keep an eye on it for the time being, but I think I�m probably going to have to go have another 24-hour ECG thing again. Which isn�t so bad, as the extra heartbeats have the tendency to freak me out when I�m all hormonal.

My top string�s broken on my acoustic again, so there�s definitely something wrong with it. I can�t remember if I wrote about how it�s fucked or not� either way, it definitely is now, and this fact makes me very grumpy. I shall have to take it to some shop somewhere and pay a fortune. I�m also having guitar lessons, as whilst I�m pretty good (ha, smug alert) I think my technical ability is stopping me from being really good. And I want to be really good, so I�m having lessons. I promised James that my teacher was bound to be grey, 50 and overweight, and he�s actually young and pretty good-looking. Kind�ve like Orlando Bloom when he had his long wavy Pirates Of The Caribbean hair. I don�t think the boy�s going to be very impressed when I eventually get round to telling him.

Oh, and my computer is on its lastest legs. I�m getting Blue Screen Of Death and it keeps randomly freezing. I�m praying that it will last until Christmas, when I can possibly afford to buy a new one, but I am a bit worried. If anyone knows how to fix Blue Screen Of Death please let me know.

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