Fuck’s sake.

Christmas is coming and it looks like I might be having it here with GG, rather than face the terror of going to his parents’ or the hassle of going to mine. But there’s no way I can cook a Christmas dinner in the small grill/oven on top of the main one. It’s too shallow, the Yorkshires would stick to the roof, or they would if they rise like they’re supposed to.

I might wind up getting my oven fixed as a Christmas present from my parents, which is possibly the lamest gift ever. Even lamer than last year, when my dad serviced my car and bought me two new tyres. Poverty-driven essentials for Christmas, hooray!