The 11th of January. Wow, tonight's tv has really left me wondering just who is commissioning shows now, or who they think their audience is. Especially on BBC1. Some programme called Reflex, which is essentially Total Wipeout but with families and in Britain, then we started watching The Voice but it became so sycophantic, we've ended up watching Splash! and it seems positively highbrow in comparison.
A man from ASOS arrived at about 9am, but thankfully I was dressed as I had to answer the door because Mommy was at Tesco and Daddy was still in bed. I spent my morning reading my first magazines from Stack and the paper. First was Victory, a sports photography publication made in New York, which I unexpectedly really liked, and second was Jashanmal Quarterly, which consisted of interviews with editors about magazines. I didn't love that one so much.
This afternoon I had a tidy of my room as its state had become annoying to me. I also finished Hadley Freeman's book, confirming to myself that I am awesome. What next?
The 12th of January.
I'm so tired tonight, but I couldn't tell you why. I suppose my sleep quality wasn't brilliant - I woke up and got my head all buzzy with thoughts, but I did drift off again. I woke again at eight, and decided to get up. By the time I'd got downstairs, Mommy and Daddy had left to take Grandma to church. I meandered about, making breakfast while I watched Sunday Brunch.
Then Mommy and I watched last night's episodes of The Bridge, then I spent the entire afternoon reading Birdman by Mo Hayder. I devoured it, and now it's done. So I'll have to get the next one in the Jack Caffery series.
I just feel listless. I don't know what to do with myself, and I just want to eat. That is boredom and tiredness.