in which the blog starts with a general complaint... from here it can only get better.

I used to keep a journal religiously. I have volumes of diaries in my cupboards at home and innumerable posts on my old livejournal account and yes, I've somewhat fallen off the proverbial wagon in recent years.  

But it's a friday evening and I am on the cusp of turning 26. I have noticed my once attractive pot belly is turning into a bit of a keg, and I have just this morning been officially given notice that I must Move Out (after my over-reacting and emotionally excessive father and I argued last night about... the news).

My birthday picnic is tomorrow - and after a full two months of blue skies and brilliant balmy sunny afternoons the forecast is for either more dust or rain. Perfect timing, Mister Subtropics. 

There are mozzies biting me in abundance and I have a sniffle. 

I've also found a beautiful little shabby house to rent but it'll cost me more than $300 a week.  And did I mention that thanks to Education Qld the likelihood of my getting any sort of teaching job with holiday pay this year is practically naught. Meaning I'll have to find a casual job over the Summer.

So they're my complaints.

Maybe this was why I gave up writing a diary. It always ended up a grand self-involved postulation.

It's my birthday tomorrow and I am well disappointed with it all. I wish it could be Sunday already.