Little old wine drinker me...

Two glasses down.
It has been a bastard of a day.
First there was a coffee morning in work and being on WeightWatchers I could but smell the lovely sausage baps and fancy buns as they wafted past. I had a measly (but delicious) slice of carrot cake and a cry in the ladies...
Then, well, I had a difficult story to write up which made me want to cry, keep my children close to me and never drive a car again.
Emails were sent and received, stresses were created. I talked a lot of shite on Facebook.
Sky sent the wrong kind of man (he didn't have a big pole) to fit our dish.
There was a *thing* in work about half a pink fancy which actually made me laugh out loud.
I went up the town with the express purpose of buying new shoes for work but did they have my coveted pair in my size? NO! *cry*
Did they have the dress I coveted in my size? NO. (Although I'm kind of between sizes right now). *cry*
Did the scales in Boots reveal a half a pound gain? Yes.
Did the summer uniform dress I bought for my niece fit? No.
Did she get all 8 year old stroppy on my arse? Yes.
Did the M&S low fat moussaka I bought for my tea taste nice? No - it tasted like someone boked on a plate.

So tea-less and with spare points to consume I made an executive decision to finish the bottle of wine in my possession. And it feels rather lovely, thank you.