Being a girl is depressing.
Well, for me. Perhaps if I weren’t such a pathetic example of a girl, it wouldn’t be so depressing.
I could do with a new bag. Even my mother nags me about that sort of thing. Yes, usually I use things till they fall apart, but it’s occurred to me that I don’t have a decent semi-casual bag that can fit a book and/or my organiser. That’s not so good. But I managed to narrow it down to a couple of good candidates.
Right about now, I could do with a female friend’s eye. My best friend is pretty helpful but sometimes it’s nice to get a girlfriend’s opinion.
I can only really think of one female friend who is pretty much without fail, reachable, or available. I have about three others except that one lives in the country (and commutes from there to Melbourne every weekday), and one who did live in Melbourne has moved to Ballarat - not an insane distance but far enough. The other one who lives in the same city as me is always…really busy.
Busy I don’t mind. Being the person who always has to get in touch, even when the other has promised that they will - well, it makes me unhappy. I even explained to one that I don’t like calling people when I’m really unwell, but it’s really nice when they call. Heck, she couldn’t even be bothered to call to let me know that she wouldn’t be able to make it to my birthday dinner. That sort of hurt.
My other girlfriend, who did manage to call to let me know that she wouldn’t be able to make it, told me that after Easter we’d meet up and catch up properly.
