I lost a packet on the pokies last night.
I ate far too much inappropriate food.
I ate a block of chocolate that needed a block and tackle to move.
I drank 3 glasses of my vintage port, 3, I can't believe 3.
Don't ask about the tranquilizers.
My eyes look like two piss holes in snow.
And nothing is stopping the guilt-o-meter from going critical.
The only way I'll suvive this is for someone to remove the empathy chip from the circuitboard in my brain.
It's no good telling me that others will make the decision, it's not up to me alone but I'm the one with Power of Attorney and I have to sign the papers.
Thank the Goddess I've nothing more to lose at the pokies but I've still got the port and hidden somewhere in this house is another block of chocolate.