Six pack for summer

I've got bloggers block. It happens to the best of us. The only things I have to write about are snow and property ownership.

Re snow. There has been about a foot of snow on the ground since about the 20th of December. It was wildly exciting at first, and then I fell over. It wasn't terribly amusing. Thankfully no-one saw. Well, I think not. Honestly, it's an icy deathtrap. I imagine that most people will have scrolled through my endless snow photos on Facebook. Isn't it pretty? Yes, but you take your life into your own hands every time you go to the postbox. Not that I ever go to the postbox, but it was a quaint thought.

My new property. Isn't it nice? I suppose it's rather cheeky referring to it as mine per se, being that in reality I'm paying for about one fifteenth of it, but hey, my name is on the contract terrifyingly enough. It's also on a thirty year mortgage. Oh well, the bank are welcome to my soul, it's not in a very good condition anyway.

Perhaps the best thing about my flat is that it is opposite the gym. I mean, it couldn't be any closer. If I can't get a six pack by this summer under such circumstances then I'll never get one, and I shall thenceforth give up going on about it and accept a life of eternal flab gracefully and gradually feed myself contentendly into a seething ball of unending blubber. And that will be an end to it.