Help Would Be… Helpful.

My partner and I are going through a difficult patch that I’m sure a lot of you have been through before. It’s one of those niggling things where we feel we need to look to outside sources for help and advice…

The kitten has fleas and its driving us mad.

Also, that’s their new housie. They have a better domicile than we do.

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Conspiracy Soup

The world is conspiring in bills and bad fortune to make us broke yet again so we’re in the soup (as my mother would say in a metaphor for drowning). My car has, yet again, pulled an ace on needing fixing.

Seriously considering selling it and getting something cheaper to insure and more reliable… like another Micra. Maybe not a yellow one this time though.

As nice a car as it is to drive, my Punto has been far more hassle (and expense in repairs) than she’s really worth. She’s also costing me far more in insurance than I can really afford at the moment. And, as much as I don’t like the idea of selling her, it seems like it would be a good idea.

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“Are You Sure I Can’t Help You With The Anxiety?”

This is what the lady on the phone asked me last night when trying to direct me to the right service because my tooth has broken and I was crying and twisting my hands into knots because that’s what I do when I panic. The tooth is still broken, by the way, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

Dentists scare me.

I’m not really good at the whole being touched by anybody (physically) thing and somebody poking around in my mouth while I force myself to lie prone on a chair that’s tipped back, feeling every vibration and scrape as they probe my teeth and gums whilst leaning over me and therefore blocking my escape… Well, that just absolutely terrifies me in the most irrational way possible.

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