You know that feeling when you just know that you’re going to have a shyte week?

Yeah, that.

May I present to you exhibits A through D:

A.
Our microwave has been in the shop getting warranty repairs for TWO WEEKS and looks to be in there for another week. That’s going to equal a good three weeks without hot chocolate, microwave mac’n'cheese and, evenly-baked cookies! How it can take two weeks to even get a quote for a part is beyond me, but Amanda from Sharp assures me that she wasn’t telling fibs. I may have “pretended” to cry to “try to expedite the repairs” but I don’t think that worked. Clearly Sharp don’t understand how important it is for me to bake cookies in a convection microwave instead of a traditional oven. Maybe I should write them a letter, it’s sure to get there well before the microwave is repaired.

B.
I’ve made an appointment to get my tax done on Tuesday night, something that is sure to result in me giving the ATO my left testicle as well as all my savings. I wanted to go to my previous accountant (who has an office cat), but they want $330 per year of tax returns processed. So now I’m putting my finances into the hands of H&R Block, who may or may not be dodgy tax agents at just $115 per return. Maybe they save money by not owning a cat that needs expensive food and fancy kitty litter.

C.
I’ve finally booked Talyn (car) in to the smash repairer to get two lots of damage repaired. My mate Habib is doing a cash deal for me cause NRMA wants to charge me 2x excess charges and I told them to stick that in their pipe and smoke it.

Okay, I didn’t. I cried, hung up on the NRMA and waited almost 2 years to get the courage to go to a smash repairer and ask for a quote.

D.
It’s going to take a week to get my car repaired which means a week of slumming it and catching public transport like Mr and Mrs Bloggs. And guess what the weatherman’s forecasting? RAIN RAIN RAIN. Srsly. This happened to me the last time the car was in the shop and I don’t own a raincoat. I’m also going to catch some horrible disease from sitting on a pre-warmed seat on the 370 bus.

I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies, like, I won’t have PMS next week (though, hey, let’s throw that into the mix for shits and giggles). And if I have proven to the universe that I have suffered enough already by the end of the week, I should have a beautifully rejuvenated car and a microwave that actually cooks at the correct temperature.

Until some mofo scratches my car the day after I pick it up. Cause that’s bound to happen.

Watch this space…