Failing

Grit is a Rubbish Grit. I am totally failing to do anything. In fact I am a total poopy-doo. I am a poopy-doo because I am not achieving anything, apart from being miserable, which I am now quite good at.

This is a list of failure. I have not...

1. Read the article that I ripped out from the Saturday Independent about three weeks ago. It is still on the chopping board, so everyday I look at it and think, just before I do any chopping, 'Hmm, must read that.' Then I move the folded up article onto the weighing scales and move it back again after the chopping's been chopped.

2. Rung the gardener who came round a month ago to cut the hedge. At that point I said I would telephone him to make a date for the pruning and uprooting the brambles in the gravelly patch at the bottom of the garden. This was a mistake. Of course I do not have his telephone number. Tiger had a good idea. She said look in Yellow Pages, which is where I originally got his number from. I think this is a brilliant idea. I just haven't got round to it yet.

3. Worked out how to use my new mobile phone which I got in March. I sometimes carry the instruction booklet around with me in the hope that I might read it. And understand it, of course.

4. Caught up with the blog. I am total rubbish at transformiong draft notes into a written piece. So from now on perhaps I won't bother. Today's entry would have then start as foloows:

We;l; must rinf the the gardener =bucause it's bveen a flipping long while since he came round to sort out the hedge. Now, where did i put his yteklephione number?

Of course bexcause I am a two fingered typer, on the second draft I also correct the spelling mistakes.

5. Looked at ebay. Well I'm sure I must be watching something, or not paid for something, or need to bid on something, or promised Shark she could choose a new denim dress that actually covers her girly bits instead of that short rag she wears that says on the label Age 9. Either Shark's very big, or it's shrunk very much. Surely girls aren't actually supposed to wear their dresses that short?

6. Done any work for weeks thanks to Elizabeth Hurley. She needs constantly looking after. And feeding. The children have taken to calling her Gannet. To her face, actually.

7. Cleaned out the car. I haven't done that since 2003. And then I regretted it and vowed never to do it again after the pair of knickers we so badly needed were at that moment sitting in a plastic bin liner in the hall 250 miles away. So perhaps I won't count the car thing as a failure, but as a success.

There. I feel better now. I've achieved something.