Decisions

Thank God they've all gone! I just can't cope when everyone descends on Stoke for the weekend. It wouldn't be so bad if you're father would help out, but he just goes out on his motorbike and I'm left to decide who has to sleep where. It's just exhausting having to make all these decisions. I've got Sean asking me whether I want fried eggs or scrambled eggs one minute and then I've got to work out what clothes to put on the next. How are you supposed to cope with all of this stress? I mean, I can't decide what kind of eggs I want, can I? Not with all these hot flushes and what with trying to keep the bungalow clean and free of vomit. It wouldn't be so bad if that physio on my hair had worked last month, but it's been three weeks now and it's still limp and got no body... I think I'm just going to cry and be done with it.