Plugging force

My rationale for continuing with this tedious catalogue of my 'health kick', is that when I am procrastinating (so: always), I will read almost anything, and I imagine some of you may be the same. None of that 'only write when you have something to say' nonsense round here. I did enjoy our debate yesterday about whether rhubarb was a fruit, a vegetable 'a stalk', 'a herb' or 'a pie filling'. This is the kind of thing the internet is for.

So: I had yet another professional knockback yesterday but somehow it has not cast me into deep gloom, and I am wondering whether that is because of this:

There isn't one called 'Overcome Despair', so I went with 'De-Stress Mind' in my (HOT! Only €282, thank you mr heating engineer!) bath and what do you know, twenty minutes later I had already reached the 'pretend knockback never happened and move on with selective amnesia as your friend and constant companion' stage. Thank you, Aromatherapy Associates, that is some good shit you have there. (Seriously, these tiny oils are excellent, even if my newly philosophical state may not be solely attributable to them*).

Other:

Water consumption: minimal, but lunch was two bowls of Green Soup so I consider I have done my duty. Today I have made the ultimate effort of bringing a glass up to my office, we shall see what effect that has, I rather imagine none, unless I need a Nurofen Plus.

Also in my office, an apple:

(Oh, apple, you make it so hard for me to love you with your floury sourness).

This spray for Empresses (I'm sure it says that somewhere, oh, no, on checking it is for Hungarian queens, fine, whatever) which I find obscurely cheering.

Looking again at this, I am amused that the French and Italian name is "Beauty Water", where as the Germans are calling it the more prosaic "Face Water". Well, yes, Deutschland, you probably have a point but let me dream, jah?

It is sitting on my desk next to this:

I cannot see how that will pose a problem at ALL, can you?

How do I look? Grotesque, still. I decided to go for mineral powder this morning, which is the nuclear solution in cases of bad skin. Unfortunately, I had finally got round to washing my brushes (reminded by commenter Karen that it is possible to use a kettle to obtain hot water), look:



As a result, I was forced to use a Body Shop one circa 1988, which coated my whole face in long, pale bristles until I looked like one of those wolf children, but not as cute.

Right. I must go and do some work before my NIGHT IN A TREEHOUSE, OMFG. If you are hungry for more tales of my physical decline and decay - and really, who wouldn't be? - over on Facegoop, M is being made physically sick by the state of my fingerclaws.

*What really cheered me was

(i) Satan posing in this thoroughly undignified fashion. I think he may have become too fat to lie normally.

(ii) Remembering, in discussion with M, a particularly awful editing-English-written-by-foreigners job I had to do once on a brochure that contained the immortal phrase "Also, it is an advantage to have a low plugging force". No, me neither.

May the (low) plugging force be with you today.