mad max, charlize theron, collapse, holiday collapse, breakdown, exhausted, tired, terrible things, catastrophe

Sometimes terrible things happen

In theory, we want socially interesting and stimulating lives. We long – in theory – to be inspired by the unknown; thriving on an endless rollercoaster of excitement and self-improvement. In practice, doing anything beyond the utterly necessary is a nightmare. But terrible things happen. And then we have to. Terrible things like…

The theatre trip up

You were out at a dinner party in real clothes which was annoying enough in itself. But then someone was talking about a brilliant play and you thought, ‘Yes this is exactly what I need’, and you booked it in the Uber home and now you have to go. Disaster.

The cancel crisis

When no one cancels and you have to go out. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with people? And they call themselves friends?

The foreign wedding/hen/big birthday

Your yearly holiday budget has been put aside (who are we kidding, there is no holiday budget, but you were hoping to go somewhere at some point). And then you get a Save The Date. It’s Seville in July. Themed “Gatsby”. Not forgetting the white tie night. The host even sent a mood board. A MOOD BOARD. Four days. Plus two to recover. A new wardrobe. Flights. Heat. Broke. Forever. And yet your FOMO gets you there… Idiot.

The running thing

You started running. You hate every minute of it. Except that weird bit at the end when you feel insanely pleased with yourself and dare you say it, a bit well-er. Now you know that it’s good for you, you feel guilty all the time. For not running. And the guilt stops you running. Because guilt is a paralyser. Nothing good has come of this running thing.

The piercing problem

Yes, you are a walking cliché and you got your tragus pierced and you didn’t even know you had one. Well now it is weeping pus and you can’t sleep and you are in A&E because the piercing parlour is closed. This is like the time you ended up in A&E when you had an allergic reaction to the plastic in your braces. Last week.

The lift low

You are the kind of person who volunteers for everything – here have my weekend/clothes/time/money/energy/everything. And so, at a work drinks party (WHEN WILL YOU LEARN NOT TO GO TO THOSE THINGS?), you accidentally volunteer to give someone a lift home. You misheard their destination but you plough on, all virtuous, and even they look surprised that you are going to drive them to their door, but you mistake their surprise for gratitude and now it’s too late and your blood sugar is dangerously low and you may never get home.

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