1.) My neighbour built what she calls an ‘orangery’.
If you’re an ignorant millennial like me you probably have no idea what an orangery is. So here is an orangery:
This particular orangery was built in the Victorian era to grow oranges.
Now you’re probably thinking that my neighbour lives on an Austenesque estate bought with the dowry of a wealthy widow to own such an orangery. WRONG!
She lives in a three-bedroomed semi-detached house built in the 1970s. And her ‘orangery’ looks more like this:
Now I don’t know when it became popular for middle-class families to build a brick extension with a couple of windows and call it an ‘orangery’ but it’s really annoying. What’s next? Will we start calling dining rooms ‘ball rooms’? Or the attic the ‘servants’ quarters’? Dear God, people, stop trying to pretend your brutalist townhouse in Grimsby is a twenty-storey Georgian mansion.
2.) I’ve turned into a hypochondriac.
I suffer from anxiety. Anyone who knows me knows that. I’ve never considered myself a hypochondriac, however. But I recently found myself in to the sorry position of waking up at 4am in a cold sweat because those dry patches on the soles on my feet became athlete’s foot. You might think that thinking you have athlete’s foot when you don’t isn’t cause for concern. But it turns out athlete’s foot is a gateway drug. Just last night I convinced myself that I had sepsis after experiencing slight abdominal pain.
In the space of a week I’d gone from thinking I had athlete’s foot (when I didn’t) to thinking I have sepsis (when I didn’t). This irrational behaviour of mine annoys me.
3.) A third of my right eyebrow fell out.
It just fell out.
I don’t know why it no longer wanted to live on my face anymore but it’s gone. And that annoys me.
I believe it may have been brought on by stress but it certainly fed into my newfound hypochondriasis. And the vicious cycle of panicking over small ailments, causing stress and creating even more ailments, fictional and non-fictional, continues.
And that’s it for this week, folks!