Big Yellow Hoover

I am sure I am in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Somewhere deep inside, I am willing it all to stop. So much so that I nearly knocked myself out in a bizarre hoovering accident last week. Is there such thing as subconscious self-harming? The fog of concussion is set to last for about 3 weeks.

I have also walked out of a supermarket and abandoned the shopping (unintentionally, I promise you). It was an online tesco with a virtual trolley. I was utterly convinced that I had paid and left the store, but as 9pm approached on Wednesday, it became clear that the groceries were not going to appear. Imagine Steve trying very hard not to lose his temper (he was quite hungry because we had held off eating) alongside SBF trying even harder to stop laughing. I shed a few tears of frustration but thankfully produced a dessert which shall henceforth be referred to as 'The Pavlova That Saved My Marriage' (Recipe available upon request).

So life seems to be becoming more dangerous whether I want it to or not. If it's not becoming a victim of a random act of violence by an inanimate object, I'm teetering on the brink of having 'inability to perform an internet shop' cited in my divorce papers. Is 'living more dangerously' becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy?