Shoot me

Sometimes I hate Sundays. Things I did today:

Got up at 11.
Had breakfast.
Had a shower.
Went out, walked up past the church, down onto Laugavegur.
Went to Mál og menning, bought a pen and some more writing paper.
Went to Kaffitár, bought a cup of coffee.
Sat, looked out at passers by and wrote a letter to my grandmother.
Went home, had lunch.
Read about sixty pages of The Fall by Albert Camus.
Dithered about with a bit of translation.
Had a cup of tea.
Listened to some Frank Turner songs on YouTube.
Tentatively drank a small amount of expired Baileys (seems to be all right).
Had dinner.
Started another letter. Did not finish it.
Wrote this.
Despaired of my boring life.

But whatever will I do next? I am torn between more Baileys and Camus or suicide. Maybe that will turn out to be the same, depending on whether the Baileys really is all right. They were going to throw it out, so I adopted it. It tastes all right. I suppose though that whether it's all right or not, I'm still drinking alone in my room out of the bottle, but really there's no other solution to this intolerable Sunday malaise.

P.S. Don't worry, parents, I am not actually suicidal. Or an alcoholic. Promise!


  1. I think Baileys lasts longer than you think - although when Granny moved house we found some solidifed in a bottle, too old for anyone I would say!

    PS Maybe you could take up religion and that would make Sunday as busy as you would like.

  2. I think it does last longer than you think! It really seems perfectly fine. I feel like Granny would never throw anything away though, just like her daughters. Actually you are probably the best at not being ridiculous about that. I heard that Penny took all her saved wrapping paper with her when she moved. And Mum re-uses dental floss, which makes me gag.

    Probably not going to join a religion just for something to do, to be honest.

  3. My mum is so not the best at throwing things away, I found sound olbas oil pastilles in the cupboard that expired in February 1993, they have probably moved house with us twice. Not as bad as those chocolate sprinkles Granny had though, I shudder at the thought. Alcohol though is perfectly fine to keep as long as it takes you to drink it. Thems the rules.

  4. What even are oil pastilles?! I think 1993 does beat our royal game soup. The soup still has the raffle label on, though, which must be worth a few bonus points.

    Obviously your mum's still a Hird, but I meant like compared to the rest of them. I'm worried that when we get older we will find ourselves carefully folding up wrapping paper and cutting the mouldy parts off oranges because "the rest is perfectly all right". Our family is absHIRD. Do you see what I did.