I like to keep notebooks by me at all times. Not that I ever write anything worth reading, but because I have a horrendous memory. Truly awful. Back in November I couldn't find a notebook to write 'pay electricity' in and yesterday we recieved a third and final notice to pay five months worth of bills. See what happens when I have no notebook? See?
Last night some random thought occurred to me as I lay in bed, exiled there due to the boys' insistence on watching darts on the television downstairs and Aoife not being around to scream at them for me, and found I had no notebook to hand. What a to-do! All my notebooks have, at various points, had important things written in them and and then been left, unwisely, in my locker at work where I can never get at them because I forget to look for my key. My umbrella is in there too! And it's lashing out! Woe is me.
So I actually had to get out of bed and search for something to write on. All I could find was the back of a tights packet. Which is why an empty tights packet bearing the words: 'Shoes from cobblers. Buy vodka. Figure out DVD player. Sew button on coat. Buy toothpaste. Buy more tights' fell out of my pocket this morning as I demonstrated lifting to a height this morning at the manual lifting course. This tights packet contains my life. And everyone else at the course saw it. I am undone!