The beans. Take cover...

I feel like I should write an update on my life, but actually there are no beans to spill. Which is kind of lame. I've given up on going to random house parties with mad international couchsurfers and the token Scotsman with bad teeth. Well ok, they stopped inviting me, probably because my teeth are too good to play the token Scotsman with bad teeth and I'm not a couchsurfer. I'm a homebody who lives with her parents. I'm stuck in a monotonous job until the depr..I mean recession is over, which will probably be when I'm 35. Until then the most exciting thing I have to look forward to is when the next person who has drunk washing up liquid calls me for advice. To vomit or not to vomit is usually the issue. Yup. I seem to have become the crisis helpline for friends as well as washing-up liquid consumers, which makes me feel wise but boring because I rarely have interesting problems myself.

Problems are a sign of something happening in your life... like when I had root canal treatment the other week. Not entirely pleasant - just imagine a fun-loving sadist using tiny metal files to grate into your tooth for half an hour. We're talking 20mm but it felt like they went all the way to my brain. But even after the injection wore off I was pain free and pretty happy. A bargain at £68! I've never had so much fun in recent memory. Oh wait, apart from when I cocked up a million times at work with the German procedures. They happen to be insanely bureaucratic (SURPRISE). Each email that's sent out about an installation/ deinstallation/ repair of the stupid laundry-product dispenser has to be sent to seven people or more and you have to somehow work out who they are supposed to be depending on whereabouts in Germany the installation site is, who sent you the request and what your uncle had for lunch. Add to that a complex Excel attachment which you have to put together from the garbled comments and incomplete details called in by the engineers who all speak jargon in strong regional German accents and call from their mobile phones with crappy signals and hey presto, you have a recipe for disaster.

Other than that life is simple and I think I can safely say I am on the way to becoming one of those crazy old ladies who has lots of cardigans and cats and obsessively reads romantic fiction and is addicted to cake.