I just went grocery shopping, only I have an awful lot of fuckshittery going on in my life at the moment and my brain appears to be mostly made up of angry bitey squirrels who keep forgetting to take their Ritalin.
That ^^ photo is of what we are, apparently, having for tea tonight.
In my defence, m’lud – my hair does need a wash (although there are two unopened bottles of that very same shampoo on my bathroom shelf already), the Monty Bojangles truffles are like cocoa-based crack and were on offer at a ridiculous £1 per box (I’d have cleared them out of all their stock but I was a bit worried they might stage an intervention), and Terry Pratchett never needs an excuse.
You know how people keep trying to develop phone apps that stop you making embarrassing calls when you’re drunk (and boy could I have done with one of those in my single years)? They need to put a scanner on the door of Tesco that checks your levels of mental hysteria before letting you into the shop.
On the other hand, I might be drowning rather than waving but at least I’ll go out in a suffocating wave of Discworldly, chocolately goodness.