Lately I’ve noticed that when I’m driving about, I’ve been hunched over the wheel, peering over my knuckles.

My eyesight’s okay. Ditto my back.

It’s my hair.

The same hair I haven’t referred to since last freaking month. What’d I say back then? Piece of piss. O sham modesty – meet my life.

It’s not that my hair is so long that it’s hanging over my eyes.

It’s that it feels weird whenever I lean my head against the headrest. Scratch weird: this amount of hair is bloody unnatural.

So. Now that the film festival is out of the way, marauding parents have returned to their usual place of residence, and a couple of large-ish paid tasks have settled down… I’ve got until the end of the month.


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