Morning misanthropy…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

“Oooh, you look well!” She beams you a chirpy smile across the yard, halting you in your progress with the heavy load of rubbish for the bin. You force the pained grimace into more acceptable lines, unwilling to scare the nice old lady.

Why is it that you only ever hear those words when your hair is wild, you wear no make-up, you’ve had no more than three hours sleep and have just fallen down the stairs? When you have cursed the alarm clock that makes you crawl back upstairs to turn off its insistent clamour two hours after you reluctantly rose to start a day you could wish you had missed. When the bathroom scales say there are several alien pounds of flesh you were not, until this moment, acquainted with…and which have no call to have invoked squatting rights on your hips when the budgie eats more than…

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