Good evening, and welcome to the Belgian Waffle (secular) confessional. I need to confess a few things and then I thought maybe you could confess a few things too (anonymously if you like), and I could forgive you and suggest suitable penance. It might be good for us. You know, spiritually. I need all the help I can get with my spiritual life being as how I don't have one. At all. Here goes.
Bless me internet for I have sinned. It has been 2 years and 6 months since my last confession (therapy session).
1. My phone has been out of battery for two weeks now and I can't face recharging it. This is however not as bad as this summer, when my out of office (which blocks voicemail) was on until mid October for a 2 week holiday at the beginning of July.
2. I have £1000 debt on my UK credit card that is my dirty secret. If the CFO knew he would have an aneurism. Also, I have not opened a bank statement or checked my balance for something like 6 years. Usually I throw them away without reading them. Despite this I am trying repeatedly to buy a 3.1 Philip Lim blouse I can't afford online. Sadly HSBC have other ideas - you weren't always so picky HSBC, were you, hmm? When you thrust ever higher credit limits in my financially irresponsible direction? This is how global financial apocalypse happens! Reap as ye shall sow. Or something.
3. In the evenings I am often too lazy to walk 3 metres to the bathroom (5 yards, imperial fans) to spit out after brushing my teeth, so I spit out into a mug by my bed. Bleeeugh.
4. When Lashes asked me who I loved most recently, him and Fingers or the CFO, I said him and Fingers. Oh, and, icing on the cake, not to tell his father. Niiiice.
5. I have just bought and eaten six pistachio and fleur de sel truffles all by myself. This is on top of a bag of peanut M&Ms, top half of two mini twixes, and piece of nougat. I seem to believe that normal rules of calorific intake/expenditure do not apply to me, and then I am surprised when I put on weight. Encouragingly, however, I am not itching to throw them all up again. This is progress of a sort. Either that, or my apathy has reached all new record breaking levels. This might be more likely than a mental health breakthrough.
6. I have lost my €480 annual tram pass but cannot face running the gauntlet of the STIB* (c'est comme l'Union Sovietique ici*! laugh the cheerful alcoholics who sit panhandling outside this delightful bureaucracy, as you queue up, hatchet faced and despairing, to deal with the impressively indifferent counter drones whose sole purpose is to obstruct you at every turn with kafkaesque demands) to replace it, so I am alternately fare dodging and buying €2 single tickets. It's tram roulette.
7. I cannot remember the last time I drank a glass of water. I rely on tea and coffee to provide all my moisture needs.
Ok. I've put my purple robe and my Prada shoes on. I'm ready. Get confessing. You can choose my penance too.
* I tried to link to the STIB to tell you what it is (public transport for Brussels) but I got the error message "bad gateway". Yes, yes indeed. Bad gateway. You took the words right out of my mouth.
** "It's like the Soviet Union here"