I am trying to use the power of positive thinking to dry my pants, and it is not working.

Every single layer I’m wearing is soaked through. My pants are disgusting; my shirt and bra are both saturated, making me look like the last-place contestant in a wet t-shirt contest held down at the Cecil. Needless to say, I am not a happy Kimli. I am a wet, cold, drippy, sniffly, frizzy, tired Kimli. I have had better Tuesdays. Drier ones, too.

It really does feel as though I’m moving in slow motion – our wonderful neighbours had a party last night that went until 3 in the morning. I’m past the point of trying to get them to shut the fuck up – there’s only so much angry slamming I can do before you just give up because some people are just that ignorant.

Too busy. More later.