Look at My Mannequin

It’s trying to give me a heart attack.  When she (I suppose) arrived she was quarantined in the porch as there was a strong smell of glue about her and I didn’t want to get high.  I think she may be holding this against me. 

I moved her up to the smaller back bedroom and she was at the end of the desk literally as you walk into the room.  Bernard rang me at 6:30 am to see if I wanted any shopping.  The reception was iffy and he rang me back on the landline.  I leapt out of bed and ran (kind of) into the back bedroom and exclaimed ‘Oh deary me’ or words to that effect and jumped two feet back, heart pounding and missed the phone. 

So after doing that again, to a lesser degree, I moved her into the larger back bedroom and she still managed to make me jump.  So she’s now in the hall and is obviously quite happy there for everyone to see as she seems to have eased up on the Kato type attacks. 

I however am only marginally closer to achieving her vital statistics.  This having absolutely nothing to do with friends calling round and bringing lemon drizzle cake, four cream cakes and B buying four egg custards because I only ate three of them the following day!!!!!!!  I started with the chocolate eclair I’d put in the freezer with my breakfast on the basis that I then had all day to work it off, but then added to it with a jam and cream doughnut as an afternoon snack and lemon drizzle cake for supper – presumably on the basis I’d sleep it off.  I’ve been better since.  Although I did read that you lose 10% body weight during a stem cell transplant so may be I should stock up on the eclairs.

One response to “Look at My Mannequin

  1. If it’s not a she, I’d start worrying about those boobs.

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