Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday.
Not a great day so far. I woke up with blocked sinuses and a heavy head. That seems to be clearing slowly, but I think a trip to Boots for a decongestant may be in order. Furtle woke up feeling a bit glum, too.
Must be the weather. Either way, neither of us was on top form first thing.
Imagine, then, my annoyance to find a letter awaiting my attention from a secure delivery company asking me to contact them so that I can arrange delivery of my new Barclaycard. The very same Barclaycard that I cut to pieces and returned to them with a request to close my account; I have a letter telling me they’ve done so. I think I shall phone up and grumble tonight and ask them what to do with the new card and whether I can get the delivery company to just take it back to Barclaycard. I don’t feel like spending a whole 30p or whatever it is these days sending it back when I can just refuse delivery. On the other hand, if I get the card at least I can destroy it.
Decisions, decisions.
While I was still feeling annoyed and manky, I got to the Tube station to find that the Northern Line was experiencing its regular paroxysms, too. I trailed into the office twenty-five minutes late with a slight headache and sinuses irritated by being stuck underground in warm air, when they wanted to be above ground in cool, moist air. I am not a cheery bunny right now and I am running out of tissues.
Still, I have coffee, so it’s not all bad.
Not a great day so far. I woke up with blocked sinuses and a heavy head. That seems to be clearing slowly, but I think a trip to Boots for a decongestant may be in order. Furtle woke up feeling a bit glum, too.
Must be the weather. Either way, neither of us was on top form first thing.
Imagine, then, my annoyance to find a letter awaiting my attention from a secure delivery company asking me to contact them so that I can arrange delivery of my new Barclaycard. The very same Barclaycard that I cut to pieces and returned to them with a request to close my account; I have a letter telling me they’ve done so. I think I shall phone up and grumble tonight and ask them what to do with the new card and whether I can get the delivery company to just take it back to Barclaycard. I don’t feel like spending a whole 30p or whatever it is these days sending it back when I can just refuse delivery. On the other hand, if I get the card at least I can destroy it.
Decisions, decisions.
While I was still feeling annoyed and manky, I got to the Tube station to find that the Northern Line was experiencing its regular paroxysms, too. I trailed into the office twenty-five minutes late with a slight headache and sinuses irritated by being stuck underground in warm air, when they wanted to be above ground in cool, moist air. I am not a cheery bunny right now and I am running out of tissues.
Still, I have coffee, so it’s not all bad.