One of those days...

Does anyone else have one of those days where you wake up and think, 'What the hell am I doing with my life?' I'm sitting here in my pajamas, sipping a cup of tea and feeling quite guilty over the fact that I just attacked a harmless box of After Eights in the most unsavoury fashion. It's probably worth mentioning that I'm hungover too. 
When and how did this happen? Okay, the hangover is due to the fact that I consumed silly amounts of sparkling wine with the girls last night and as for the After Eights, I'm going with the fact that due to their minty flavour, eating them is technically considered as brushing your teeth. I mean, my mouth does actually feel rather fresh right now. 
Also, I binge ate cheesy chips last night, therefore breaking my low-carb diet in a dramatic fashion. I lasted two and a half days though, which is fraction less than the amount of time I stuck to the ab challenge. It's pretty much Oslo's fault that one didn't work out. Nobody wants to exercise on their jollies now do they! So at some stage, I need to start this sorry process all over again. Oh how my life is so far from those watermelon and quinoa munching yoga gurus you see littered all over Instagram. 
Half-way into my cup of tea, I have only just realised that I forgot to put my usual sweetener into it. Clearly the After Eight aftermath has worn off and my taste buds have roused from their chocolate-induced coma. I'm pretty sure that airport security can just skip me when I next take a flight. I haven't heard of many people being able to create an explosive device, yet unable to make a simple hot beverage. I'm pretty, 'low risk' I reckon. 
This morning, I cried watching a child cry over getting a new puppy. Not even in real life. It was a video that was circulating on Facebook. The child had a really annoying whine but it didn't matter. The tears flowed, as they did last night when I had finished gorging on chips, because Scott really didn't seem to understand the fact that I loved him, in quite the way I wanted him to. Of course, it was nothing to do with the fact that it was 3am and he had work the next morning or anything. I'm pretty much that emotional drunk girl. I also managed to fall on my arse in the club trying to move a chair to sit on, shortly before making a stealth-like exit; but we can just gloss right over that one. 
Finally, I'm just going to put it out there that I am currently living in conditions of squalour. My apartment could probably feature on a Channel 4 documentary and I'm pretty sure I would become a trending hashtag. #FinlandsBiggestScruff or probably something a bit more clever than that, I just really haven't got the brain power today to come up with anything witty. It's worth pointing out that I'm living in such conditions due to the fact that 90% of my personal belongings are boxed up ready to move apartment next week, and not in fact because I have hygiene related issues or anything. Maybe I should just stop writing this post now. 
Here's a completely unrelated, but totally relatable meme:

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Over and out.