I’m in my pajama pants. My hair hasn’t been washed in four days. My fridge is bereft of cheese, eggs and milk. And a reluctant look at my bank account yesterday provoked a pathetic flurry of tears.
I still don’t have a job. It’s STILL freezing cold (c’mon London, it’s nearly APRIL already!). It’s getting pretty hard to make rent. And now, I can’t even make cheese on toast.
But there’s no need for pity. No need to feel sad.
Because we’re just one day away from the BEST WEEKEND OF THE YEAR.
And while I may not have any REAL eggs, I have a bucketload of chocolate ones. Easter egg chocolate, in my opinion, is the absolute best, most delicious chocolate of the year. While everyone else complains when the Easter eggs start arriving in the shops on December 26, I celebrate. That’s THREE WHOLE MONTHS you can eat the best chocolate in the world!
And being the contrary, nationalistic thing I am, English chocolate WILL NOT DO. I don’t care if the UK is the home of Cadbury – I swear to you, they do it better in Australia. Something to do with a chemical to stop the chocolate melting so easily, apparently. Well, BRING ON THAT MYSTERY CHEMICAL, I say! It tastes delicious!
So I’m counting down the hours until the Easter binge, jealously guarding my stash of Aussie chocolate from dodgy Londoners who don’t appreciate it for the magic that it is.
And who knows, when I bite into my breakfast turkish delight egg on Sunday, things might just fall into perspective. I’ll realise that my turning point is just within reach. Have an epiphany about new life, rebirth, and all that stuff.
Or just get an awesome sugar rush.
Either way. My hair might be dirty, my fridge might be empty, and my ego might be battered. But come Sunday, I WILL EAT CHOCOLATE.
Happy Easter, everyone!