I'm knackered!

Got up about 8.30 this morning, had a shower then took the dogs out (after I'd dressed of course...I'm not that sadistic).  Waited for husband to shower, have cigarette, dress, have cigarette, order computer parts, order bike parts, another cigarette, have brew, another cigarette, then off we went.  Set off for town and managed to find somewhere to park without too much trouble (other than a senior Jensen Button wannabee who was not letting me having his parking space.  He'd parked at the opposite end of the car park so I wasn't sure if he was waiting for someone or not.  He made no attempt to move so I drove past him just as someone was pulling out).

First stop, Willy Banjo's for cigarette papers and scales;  next opticians to sort out the direct debit that their customer dis-service department had set up (or not); couple more stops and a brief stop at HMV who were haing a 4 for £20 sale on DVDs so we bought 8 plus 2 others, Paul bought 2 books and a CD as well; next stop Game for an Xbox game for Robbie and a stop en route to him for petrol, dog treats and some sunglasses that I'd seen in Halfords last week.  (We were looking for shoes for me and socks and trainers for him but came away without wither).

Got home and ordered a new desk for Robbie (who is going to have Paul's old PC), some filing cabinets for me (all on offer at Tesco) and some DVD shelving from Argos for the lounge.

I'm now officially knackered!

Whilst out shopping...

I've just been reminded of a conversation I had with Paul while we were out.  He'd seen a stainless steel cross with a tribal design on it and asked me if I liked it.  I said it was OK as far as crosses go, I just don't do crosses and said that I was surprised that he did.  He said that, when his time comes, he wants a fighting chance of going somewhere warm and fluffy rather than fire and brimstone.  That made me laugh cos I don't believe that you actually go anywhere.  Once you die, that's it, game over.  That, of course, is when things started getting silly.  He asked me what my idea of the perfect place to go when I die was.  I said a huge field full of Kizzie puppies.  He laughed and said that it would get a bit messy and I told him not to be so bloody stupid, they don't need to eat, therefore they don't need to poo.  He thought about it for a while and then agreed with me!