Can I vent a little? I'm an active person. By active I mean I gym, I dance, I run, I skip, I hop, I squeak a takkie... Whatever it is, I make sure I exercise every single day. It makes me feel happy. I like to wear heels when I go out. I like to be able to jump around when I'm excited (the child in me) or stamp my feet when I'm grumpy. I like to be able to stretch in the morning while I brush my teeth. When I can't do any of these it upsets me. I feel useless. Immobile. Demotivated. Emo.
Before I start to sound depro (or is it too late) I'll let you know that a charming and rather good-looking young chap in a large beanie (which left far too much to the imagination – does he have hair? Does he not have hair? Is it grey? Is it pink? Curly? Straight?) walked into my flat on Monday night, which is currently on the market, and put in an offer. Not thinking my tiny studio was going to sell at all, I was immediately filled with worry and images of myself sleeping on a bench on the promenade, cuddling a pillow and my favourite pair of shoes. Until he told me he didn't want to live in it and was glad for me to stay on as a tenant. He then asked if there was anything I needed... Me being me, I instantly saw this as an invitation to pimp out my pad and promptly gave him a list of things I desperately required, everything from blackout curtains to new windows, a paint job, more cupboard space and an elliptical trainer (for the knees of course). But he wasn't taken aback, he simply said: 'I'm on it... '
I almost fell over backwards!
Me: 'Will you marry me?'
Beanie: 'What?'
Me: 'Er, I mean... will you carry me... to the couch. I have bad knees.'
He looked perplexed, then he grinned.
Beanie: 'How about I throw in a zimmer frame...'
Heading to El Burro tonight. For tequila tasting. Or as my friends call it: dinner. I've run out of pain killers (for my knees), so tequila will do just fine.
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