The Boyfriend isn’t here tonight. And my funemployment reached new levels of smugness just now when I realised that pretty much every branch of South London travel is currently affected by manic chaos (person under a train at Norbury, person under a train at Stockwell, Victoria station closed, London Bridge station closed.. How on earth will we cope with the Olympics?!)
Being at home sans Lurch tonight means that I absolutely have the time to do everything I am too embarrassed to do in his company: exercise, militant skincare regime, weeping wildly to West Side Story/Funny Girl/any other musical I can get my hands on tonight. I also definitely get to watch Glee without being criticised (I need some Lea Michele in my life, it’s been too long!)
Although, I know what I’ll totally end up doing tonight. I’ll open a bottle of wine, listen to John Mayer for hours whilst smoking a ridiculous amount of cigarettes, and crying endlessly whilst I listen to ‘Gravity’ on a loop. Until 2am finally arrives and working links for Glee are plastered online, so that I can then spend 45 minutes crying endlessly whilst either listening to Lea Michele serenading me or despairing at how much Ryan Murphy hates me and doesn’t want to let me listen to Ms Lea Michele.
Oh, and I will almost definitely try to teach my cats how to dance. Who needs exercise, anyway?