|Driving into Snowdonia National Park|
Anyway, NHS bureaucracy, a blood test and two weeks later, it turns out I have a serious vitamin D deficiency and need an injection. I'm not sure Mexico is to blame for the lack of sunshine vitamin, I rather imagine the lack of sunshine has something to do with it, but I'll be interested to see if a vial full of sunny side up has me springing from the chair with a renewed zeal for life. I hope it's that easy.
But let's not kid ourselves, some fucking sunshine would also help. It snowed again last week.
Not the slack-jawed ambivalent snow of two weeks before, like lazy environmental dandruff, but like blizzard-like snow, coming at you from every angle in a raging, schizophrenic, fucked up dance that was so extreme you could only laugh in stupefied wonderment. Welcome to Spring people, where the sun never shines and your daffodils come dusted in snow.
Beyond the continued wearing of tights under trousers this shitful weather has mean a complete and total abhorrence for leaving the house for anything beyond the 10 to 6 slug of paid employment. Six months into the Winter That Never Ends, my ritual is now downpat. In the door, into LB's ratty old tracksuits pants, 10 minutes on the floor leaning against the radiator, dinner and then Dexter.
I'm not sure why it's taken us so long to get around to watching the brilliantly dark Dexter but we're making up for lost time and are steaming through episode after episode. We started a couple of weeks ago and are already half way through season four. Unfortunately, it's an addiction that's brought with it another addiction, just as bad when consumed in excess: doughnuts.
I can't help it.
Every time I see the detectives at the Miami Metro police station devouring a box of sugary stale pastries I start salivating and find myself Desperately In Need of Doughnuts. The fucking sooner we finish watching this show the better, otherwise I'm going to end up with a diabetes problem as well as a vitamin D one.