Low blood sugar + blogging = a random collection of petty complaints

Every occupation has its physical hazards. I’m convinced that if I die in the course of a workday, it’ll be in a taxi. I just got back to the office from a six-block ride in which we got honked at twice, narrowly avoided being side-swiped by an articulated bus and at least three illegal manoeuvres were performed (the best of which was an illegal u-turn in front of a moving tram). Jesus.

In other news, this diet that I swore I wouldn’t talk about? It’s pissing me off. I’m eating two relatively healthy meals a day, few-to-no snacks and the occasional fruit salad, and I’ve lost – stop the presses – a pound. Something tells me I’m not getting a book deal any time soon over this particular strategy.

Someone did try and convince me that wine contains calories, but I’m dismissing that as medical quackery. There must be another reason I’m not losing weight.

And my tax return still hasn’t come through, meaning I still don’t have a laptop. If I don’t have one by the beginning of November I don’t see how I can possibly attempt Nanowrimo, which would be disappointing.

So, to sum up: I spend my days riding around in taxis, I drink too much wine to be catwalk-thin, and I don’t have a laptop. Cry me a river, huh?