Because I am lazy, here is a quick summary of some things I’ve done in the last week, in a handy list format. You’re welcome!

1. Rendered myself unable to walk, courtesy of the elliptical machine at the gym

Having arrived at the gym, I discovered that the massive blister I’d managed to rub into my foot the day before (People always ask me how I can walk in heels, but it’s always flats that try to kill my feet) was not going to allow me to run as usual. “I’ll just use the elliptical!” I thought. “Because that won’t be painful AT ALL.”

People, I literally couldn’t walk properly the next day, and I’m using the word “literally” in its, er, literal sense here, unlike the girl on The Fashion Police last month who commented, “I literally died when I saw these shoes,” and who was either using “literally” incorrectly, or communicating with me from beyond the grave. Seriously, though, when I got off the machine, my legs were trembling, and when I got up the next day I discovered they were locked into a kind of “sitting down” position, and I had to try and walk around like that until they loosened up. And every time I sat down for more than a few minutes, it would happen again. GOD.

2. Got ID’d while buying a bottle of champagne for my mum’s birthday

Now, you have to understand that this hasn’t happened to me for a WHILE. I used to get ID’d constantly. Up until a few years ago, people would come to my door and, when I answered it, would ask if my parents were at home. (“Probably,” I’d answer, “But they don’t live here, so I can’t say for sure…”) Lately, though, this kind of thing has stopped happening, and I can’t help but notice that my ability to buy alcohol without having to hand over my driver’s licence first has coincided with me ageing like an old hag. And I’ll be honest: I’ve been struggling with this ageing thing. I know you’re supposed to be all, “Oh, I’m so happy in my skin that I don’t care if it has wrinkles,” but I’m more, “Screw that, where’s that expensive face cream that’s supposed to completely immobilize my face?” (Note: that was a joke. I don’t ACTUALLY want to immobilize my face. Maybe just partially immobilize it.) So, anyway, I was downright THRILLED to be asked for ID, although the cashier’s reaction to seeing my driver’s licence was slightly less than thrilling. “JESUS CHRIST!” she said (slightly inappropriately, I felt. Also, I really wanted to say, “Oh, did I give you the wrong card? Look, here’s the one with my other identity: you won’t tell anyone I’m actually Jesus, will you?”) “I’m really sorry,” she said, once she’d regained her composure. “Oh, don’t be sorry,” I assured her. “That’s the best compliment I’ve had all year.” And it totally was.

I’m slightly surprised, though, to find that the under-age drinker’s beverage of choice is apparently CHAMPAGNE now. Kids are so sophisticated these days, aren’t they?

3. Performed the Great Wardrobe Switchover of 2010 (Summer Edition)

I’d put this off for as long as possible because, well, it just kept on snowing, didn’t it? But on Friday the weather took a turn for the (very slightly) warmer, so I decided the time had come to say goodbye to my coats and boots and hello to about fifty million pieces of striped or spotted summer clothing. This time I decided to do the thing properly, so rather than just consigning the old season’s clothes to to the top of the wardrobe, I bought a couple of big plastic containers (seriously, they’re so big you could fit a body in each of them. Just a handy tip there if any of you are currently dealing with body-storage issues.) and put the winter clothes into them. Then I stood for about seven hours, ironing all of the summer stuff that had been crammed into the top of the wardrobe for months and hanging it up. It was Not Fun. Every time I thought I was reaching the end of the pile, I’d find yet ANOTHER dress lurking in a corner. I’d like to say here that the experience was a lesson to me to stop shopping, but we all know that would be a lie, so moving on…

4. Killed my laptop, bought a new one

Relations between me and my laptop had been strained for some time, but last week, due to events too tedious, complicated and totally my fault for me to want to go into here, our differences finally became irreconcilable, and Terry decided it would be simpler just to buy a new one rather than keep on and on (and on, and on…) having to fix the old one, and listen to me whine about it. I’m pretty sure it was mostly the whining that tipped him over the edge, to be honest, which I guess is something to bear in mind next time I want to buy shoes but don’t have any money.

The new laptop is currently on its way, and should be here soon (Maybe even today, in fact!), at which point my working life will be revolutionized, and I will become a super-productive blogging machine, for as long as it takes me to break the new one.

I’m now off to have a shower, as I know from experience that this will be the best way to hasten the arrival of the delivery man…

EDITED TO ADD: The laptop did arrive, but… it’s faulty. Am gutted.

  1. I so sympathise on the champagne front – at my first job in London, one of my errands was to buy the booze for any client knees-ups. I don't drive, and didn't think I looked adolescent enough to warrant taking my passport to work every day just in case, so I had no real I.D. And once, in the off licence next door to my work, I was in the queue and watched two giggling, obviously-underage-but-dolled-up-the-nines 16-year-olds combining their 50ps at the counter until they had enough to buy a cheapo bottle of wine. When I tried to buy £500 worth of champagne though, nothing doing. But at least we look youthful!

    1. Haha, because 17-year-olds would totally spend £500 on champagne! It was actually really weird because I'd stood in line and watched the cashier be pleasant to everyone before me, with the whole, "Hi! Need any help packing?" etc, but when it got to my turn she fixed me with a really dirty look and went, "Well! I hope you have ID for that!" as if to say, "Ha, I've totally caught you out, you filthy little law breaker, you!" I was still super-flattered, though: I'll take the compliments anywhere I can find them at this stage!

      1. Being tall for my age I never got asked for ID for anything when I was underage. However, I did finally get asked for ID for a bottle of wine when I was 22. It totally made up for being called 'madam' from the age of 18. *grrr*

        Ash got asked for ID when ordering a beer at a restaurant in Florida last year. I giggled like a loon; he was 34 at the time and despite looking a few years younger doesn't really look under 21. He even has a smattering of grey hair. The waiter – who was clearly in his 40s himself – scrutinised the UK driving licence carefully and handed it back with the words "well done…".
        .-= Alex´s last blog ..Easter memories, cats and kids =-.

  2. I too get IDed all the time, and usually hand over my ID to similar reactions. The puzzled looks they give me (usually, I think, while trying to do the maths and work out exactly how old I must unbelievably be) would make a great website in the lolcats genre. Only without the cuteness.
    .-= Caroline´s last blog ..More fings wot I want… =-.

    1. I know what you mean about the looks… I'm very flattered by the question itself, which is definitely a compliment at my advanced age, but the reaction to seeing my ID is always horrible and from the way they go on about how they wouldn't have guessed I was THAT old makes me feel like they're about to offer me a wheelchair to get me out of the building or something. I walked back to my car with a Spring in my step, but also with the fear that I might drop deal of a heart attack as I am THAT old!

  3. I generally don't get ID'd in bars but it's all the time in supermarkets. Think it's because they have a new rule where if you loook under 25 they have to ID you, I am 26 so it pleases me no end! Although about 2 years ago I was in Tesco buying balloons, party poopers etc for my friends birthday and got asked for ID as you have to be over 16 to buy party poopers, ridiculous but not as ridiculous as the time I was asked for ID to see a 15 rated film when I was about 23/24!

  4. Agh, I hate you all! (Not really.) Never been asked for an ID in my life: at 12 I looked 16, from 14 onwards looked around 20, then spent the 20 years looking between 25 and 30. After 40, isn't it interesting the way people's attitude changes towards you once they discover how old you really are: "Oh sorry, I thought you were a person. Now how can I get rid of this old crone…" (Or maybe that's just the (younger) men in the IT industry.)

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