Are My Neighbours Totes Judging Me? I am a teacher. Need I say more? It's officially been 8 days since I have heard the words "Miss, Dylan just threw a rubber at my head". And let's face it, I'd probably throw a rubber at this kid's head if it wouldn't get me sacked. Needless to say, I am supposedly living in holiday bliss. Or so my husband tells me. Yesterday I spent the best part of 8 hours gutting out old clothes only to be told by the used clothing company that my 6 bin bags were worth a total of £18. Seriously? That dress is worth 30 quid!! On a brighter note,it is a Wednesday morning and I have the sweet satisfaction of being moderately hungover, all the while knowing it should technically be a school day. I am also sitting in a onesie (renamed by my husband as a fart suit) and I will probably watch somewhere in the region of 1 to 5 episodes of Orange is the new black before doing anything productive. I should probably mention that due to said hangover I have already eaten two incredibly red saucy sausage sandwiches and drank half a litre of fat coke. Cause that's how I roll on hangover day. My next door neighbour definitely thinks I'm a nutter. The whole being in a onesie in July while looking like I've had a fight with a grizzly is probably the main reason. I know she thinks I'm nuts because on the rare occasion I see her, I am usually rocking some mismatched pyjamas while picking up dog shit in my garden. She has resigned to not speaking to me and instead gives my the raised eyebrow head nod in recognition of my existence. She has also totally told the rest of the street about my refusal to shower before midday. Anyway, I am definitely counting this blog as productive which just earned me an extra episode of OitNB. Peace out brother tucker