My Life on a Plate

Grump Grump Grump

Bear with a sore head this morning but that's not unusual is it?

Watched the final of American Idol last night which they dragged out for two hours. Commercial breaks drive me crazy; there's only so many times you can go to the loo during a programme. I realise why I don't have much time for television these days; everything is so shallow and padded out with commercial crap. Grump, grump, grump.

I only watch Idol because I love music and Simon Cowell. Or did. I blame him for promoting the winner far too early in the series. I secretly hoped she wouldn't win but knew of course the result would be as predicted. Grump, grump, grump.

Hubby accused me of being biased and wouldn't accept the fact that I just don't like her type of voice or the fact that she's been given priority treatment. Good job he fell asleep or I'd have hit him with a cushion. Grump, grump, grump.

Later I moved to the computer to catch up with mail and read a few journals. Hubby wakes up, wanders over, has a good look then asks who I'm talking to and why I was in such a hurry to get on the computer. Fortunately, the kitchen knives are not within reach. Grump, grump, grump.

I was hoping the high temperatures would continue today so my mother wouldn't want to go far. It's a ritual that's hard to break taking mother out on Saturday afternoons. It used to be enjoyable, but becomes more and more of a trial as she gets more forgetful and difficult. I appreciate the fact I'm lucky to still have my parents, but my weekends are never my own. Anyway, it's cooled down so it looks like a shuffle round the shops then sitting for an hour over a glass of wine, with little to talk about. Grump, grump, grump.

Then tonight we have an invite to my hairdresser's evening wedding do. She's a lovely girl, but we won't know anyone there and hubby isn't the sociable, dance floor type. An evening making small talk over sausage rolls and vol au vonts isn't really my scene. Grump, grump, grump.

So, I'd better go phone mother, wash my hair and sort myself out for a day of riveting excitement. I know I shouldn't complain, it could be a lot worse, but I just wish it was a lot better! Grump, grump, grump.