Living the sweet life

It was pointed out to me that I haven't done an update in a while. This is simply down to my pure laziness and procrastination at the prospect of forming words after the tragedy that was my GCSEs.

Also, my mum borrowed my laptop for a while. She changed a whole bunch of settings and my search history is now a bit weird. It would appear she looked up "How to make an omelette" on YouTube. My mother is a chef....

So the past month I've spent my life either on Facebook getting my suggestions of fun things we could do that day totally rejected, curled up in some discreet corner with some terrible romantic comedy novel, working, or at the doctor's.

Some of my friends from the years above me warned me that this summer would be hands down the best summer of my life. Well thanks for the false hope. No one seems to have enough energy to do anything.

You've got me, leaping out of bed every morning like a shorter, British, more feminine (although not by much) version of American Dad, while most of my friends roll themselves out of bed at two or three in the afternoon purely because they're hungry. Okay, so the reason I jump out of bed so fast is because my alarm tone is "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons, and trust me, if that went off on full volume while you were asleep, you too would leap out of bed like a startled rabbit and dash to silence it.

But STILL.

I wake up every morning met by piles of greasy pans to be cleaned. The joys of living in a B&B.

I don't tend to get annoyed until I end up being forced to wash up extortionate amounts of crockery. The dishwasher is for the crockery. But this morning being a prime example, all the guests but two decided that they needed to have a bowl of something or rather as well as their cooked breakfast. They simply had to use their side plates to get some toast that they then neglected to eat. It annoys me, throwing away so much food.

In my family, we have a system. I don't like tomatoes so I give them to my mum. My brother doesn't like onion so he gives it to me. Full up? Pass your plate over to the boys, more commonly known as the "human vacuum cleaners". My older brother Jake is the worst. If we have a roast dinner he always has to plate his last otherwise my mum fears there will be none left for the rest of the family.

I tend to take my annoyance out on my parents. After all, they accepted these annoying, crockery-utilising individuals in to our home. They find it rather comical, my little angry spurts of "Really?? Did they NEED to use all of these bowls?? LIKE MUM'S PORTIONS AREN'T BIG ENOUGH ALREADY!!"

My mum chuckles and said this morning "It's a tough life for little Cinders", which did nothing,nothing to improve my little strop.

Yes. That's my nickname. Cinders. 

I mean I suppose it could be worse. The implication is that I've just got to wait to lose my shoe while at a party dancing with a handsome chap with a lot of money.

That makes sense actually. I'm constantly losing my shoes, however more on purpose than anything. I'm a bit of a hippy. I detest wearing shoes.

Also it would make sense that the shoe would only fit me out of anyone in the magical kingdom of Kent. My feet are that big.

One flaw is that I don't exactly look like much. Like Cinderella was beautiful, the Prince fell for her at once. I'm a wallflower, I'm not much to look at, you honestly wouldn't single me out in a crowd. No one would really notice me without knowing me first. And then once you know me I'm fucking insane and you won't stop noticing me. "Here I am! Look at me! I'm upside down!" I'm loud around people I'm comfortable with. But if I'm not, you'll end up with this posh little girl using her fringe as a shield to ward of the evil demon of social interaction.

I don't have two evil stepsisters either. Or an evil stepmother. But my mum is pretty evil. She tricks me in to coming to the supermarket for "just a few bits" and we end up trailing around for hours and hours picking out boring things that we totally don't even need like bread and milk. Like, we needed that bouncy castle much more than those mushrooms!

But no one ever listens to little old me.

I'll show them.....

So I guess now I actually have to go to parties to have some sort of chance of meeting this dude who's gonna make me into this fab princess and give me magical talking cleaning accessories which clean the pans while I have a nice chat with them about the weather, twiddling my thumbs.

Now THAT I could get used to.