- password fuckwittery
- child duplicity leading to unnecessary packed lunch making
- whining. Lots of whining.
There have been many requests for the Confessional to return. I, personally, can no longer confess my actual crimes, because my gurning, moronic horseface and slightly too long name now grace these pages, and people who might be inveigled into paying sums as princely as 173 pounds for my efforts might accidentally read about them.
I have an idea though. I am going to "confess" (list) my anxieties. You, in the comments, can choose either to confess the conventional sins, or anxieties too.
Things I am anxious about:
1. I am anxious that it has been about three years since I went to the dentist and almost everyone I know is having dental trauma at the moment. Mine must be imminent. I am afraid that one night I will grind my (rubbish) teeth that extra 5% harder than usual and all my molars will simply crumble.
2. I am anxious that I will continue to live a life of constant vermin infestation of one type or another, like the medieval peasant I am at heart.
3. I am so anxious about financial matters that I cannot say more or I will have to go and find a paper bag to breathe into. I will lump the fact that the accountant has asked for all my, uh, what do you call it all that white papery stuff? "Stuff"? That. About a fortnight ago. I have done nothing. I am pretending I did not even see it.
4. I am anxious for my tiny little sister, who is quite ground down by life and could do with getting a break. And this goes a hundredfold for my big brother.
5. I am anxious about the scratches on the floor in the Salmon Palace.
6. I am anxious I am being punished for having good skin in my teenage years by now looking like SHIT until I die. I really look like shit. I do not understand it.
7. I am anxious about a raft of other things that must remain obscure, and not because they involve me being on the brink of signing a six figure contract to do something really fucking impressive.
8. I am anxious that my understanding of the Hart Scott Rodino Act will let me down on a conference call on Monday on which I am, laughably, supposed to be an expert.
9. I am anxious that B will finally coerce me into playing the piano while he plays the flute, only for him to realise I have NOT been modestly talking down my piano abilities, but that I actually am utter shite.
10. I am anxious that all my friends including the aforementioned and cherished B are going to bloody well leave me alone in Brussels, with only the reprobates on the 51 tram, my hole staring, net twitching neighbours, my increasingly teenage and indifferent children and the fecking dog for company.
11. I am perpetually anxious I will get sued for some minor incompetence or inaccuracy. I doubt I am insured for that. Cue extra anxiety.
12. I am anxious how I will survive the literal, multiple, empty nest syndrome that beckons over in owlcam land.
This could go on for ever, so I am stopping. If you have any fears or anxieties or more entertainingly, VILE CRIMES to confess, please do so in the comments.