Best thing since
ever, am I right? I am, I’m totally right. Not always or about everything, but
absolutely about this.
I mean most of my
snail mail is dullsville, bills and other such adult stuff about which I care
not a jot but which I have to deal with because I am trying my hardest to do
successful adulting.
Trying my hardest
but not always succeeding.
‘My head hurts. I
need ibupforen and hugs,’ I wailed at my Dad recently, ‘I am not ready to
self-parent,’ and because most post is telling me about money that will be
leaving my bank account and thus making me sad, it feels nice when those little
boxes rock up. I mean I know that money has had to leave my bank account in
order for me to get said boxes, but whatever: I feel much better about spending
my hard earned cash on bookish goodies than on gas and electric and council
tax. It’s just the way it is.
