No ironing tonight

Hi readers

I am Up & Running in my new office.  Actually, "office" sounds a bit wanky but I'm not sure what other word would do.  Possibly "playroom" or "cave", or that popular 21st century word, "space".  Anyway, whatever it's called, it's all mine, mine, mine to decorate & do with what I wish. How lucky am I?  Currently, the place is a PIT but tomorrow we will put together the flat-pack book shelf that is the back of Steve's car.  I am also planning to put dad's sofa in here once I've had it restored.  It will be the place I take my afternoon naps, as I am known to regularly do as I am such a relaxed person..... HA!  It's part of the New Me.  I am trying to morph from a Type A person to a Type B but I don't know how long it will take.  See?  That is a typical Type A thing - to be time conscious. I have been a bit obsessed with the whole Type A or B thing this week after the Bakewell Tart suggested to me that I might be "a bit Type A".  This set me to investigate the phenomena & ever since, I've Googled myself stupid confirming my "symptoms".  I know, I know, I know... it's just a label but in a way, I am a little relieved as it explains some of my behaviours (inability to relax, overly time conscious, excessive worry blah, blah, blah).  Now, when I see I am acting "a bit Type A", I try to pull myself into line.  It's only been about four days so let's not hold our breaths shall we?  I've already failed my new dental flossing lifestyle with a 50% floss factor since my visit with the dental hygenist this week.  
My oral surgeon has flicked me (also known as a "turf" in medical terminology) & I am now going to have augmentation with a periodontist.  This does not involve enlargement of my breasts but rather, puffing out of my tragically shrivelled upper gum following my failed bone graft.  I ask myself regularly why I just could not live happily with that wretched plastic denture & then remember that I have a right to try to restore my oral cavity to some semblance of normality, just as a woman whose had a mastectomy might elect to throw away her bird seed breast prosthesis and embrace the joy of a tissue expander.  Do you see what I mean?? Do you??? Anyway, basically it's all going to shit & I'm about to try my last chance to get it right which involves connective tissue grafting followed by a bridge.  Amazingly, my mum is virtually in the same situation, having lost her front tooth & going through the bridge process too.  It must be genetic!  

Unlike mum's LOVE of ironing & my total hatred of the same thing.  Thankfully tonight I have an excuse not to do it as it is Earth Hour & I will need to turn off all power for an hour from 8.30pm.  What a shame those clothes will have to stay wrinkled.  Last week I wore a completely mangled shirt to work because I was too busy to iron it (what???) & my boss thought it looked perfectly normal!!  This has been construed by myself as Carte Blanche to continue to wear wrinkled clothes to work every single day.  I love my boss.

I have to go!  It's 8:25pm.  Go turn off your lights!