We have a short 19 days left until I’m stood
dancing with my dog in my arms whilst the clock strikes midnight to
signal the start of a new year – and thank f*ck for that.
2018 has been the highest of highs and the absolute
crushing of lows, and I for one will be downing a glass of wine as soon
as it’s socially acceptable to kiss goodbye to this year.
I learnt a lot (most of it not the best), like how
to manually drain a washing machine after putting a battery and my
headphones in a dressing gown pocket, and how to entertain a baby who
wants to throw your phone across a waiting room
instead of holding it gently. I also learnt that the best way to get a
good table at a restaurant is to tell them it’s someone’s birthday – the
more you know.
What I am still clueless on are the male species,
how to clear out a utility cupboard without finding a spider and what to
do when your fridge freezer goes kapoot and all your food starts to
defrost – I am winning at adulting.
Whilst It’s easy to dwell on the crushing lows of
the year (which now include a jaw issue from being overexcited about a
piece of chicken in my lunch which means I now can’t eat solid food
without crying), I’m also saluting the highs which
are my amazing bunch of friends.
As previously documented, I received the news no one wants to hear on July 12th – cancerous cells within the body. This was the most earth shattering experience of my life and I can honestly say I think I would’ve fallen apart if my friends and family weren’t there to pick up the pieces, which included driving to mine late at night when I was having a breakdown in the bath ; Briony, if you ever read this which is unlikely since you have a mini human who consumes your time – I love you.
My friendship group have become my rock over this past year, and whilst I am a frequent drunk declarer of "No, I am the luckiest person to have you as my friend", I really do mean it whilst also sober. My friends have been here to prop me up through some tragic and some downright hilarious moments this year, and I would be nothing without them.
2018 was also the year of the first long distance (ish, 10k is long distance to me when the most cardio I've done in recent weeks is walking to the fridge and back to collect my festive cheese and chutney) run, which saw me both wishing it would end and feeling a massive high when I finished which was probably similar to heroin. I also learnt that despite it being a World Cup year, I am still none the wiser on the off-side rule or who the line up of the England football team are day to day.
I got hideously drunk at a work trip to the races whilst resulted in me being copious milkshakes from McDonalds which I couldn't carry any further than the train station entrance, and I cleaned enough wine off of my leather trousers to be able to tell you what type of wine I was wiping away and when.
I went on a hilarious disaster of a holiday which both me and my twin can agree we must do better in future, and I made copious plans for the future.
I made resolutions, which for the best part I didn't stick to - who has time to make themselves look like a goddess before work every morning? No thanks, I'd rather have an extra 30 minutes in bed.
2018 : you were terrible. Honestly, terrible. And I'm not trying to sugar coat our break up here because it's not me ; it's you. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving our issues behind me and putting my best Jimmy Choo clad foot forward strutting in to 2019.
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