In usual fashion, everything is going wrong this week.

My contact lens has a hole in it.  New one might arrive by Saturday morning but they can't guarantee it.  I wear monthly ones that have to be ordered and they arrive every three months.  As you can guess, this is my last pair and the next lot don't arrive till 16th September.  It was brand new out of the packet and has a clear hole right through it (I mean clear as in "obvious" not as in transparent - a hole will always be clear, no? *waits for Pete to pick holes in that argument.  Clear ones, no doubt*).  They refused to order me a pair, only the damaged left one, which means that the right one, which I can't wear without a left one, obviously, is sitting in its little case all forlornly, and expiring in front of me (once opened, they really do only have a shelf-life of 28 days).  I hate wearing glasses.  I can't go to the gym in them.  I can't swim in them (or without, I can't see the end of my own nose).  Argh.

My you-know-what has decided to arrive two weeks early.  It's a bit bizarre - it usually fluctuates between three weeks and five weeks.  Not normally two weeks.  Am hoping it's done and dusted by Saturday but knowing my body, it won't be.  I am craving chocolate like there's no tomorrow and my moods are swinging like an orang-utan through a rainforest.  Steer clear if you know what's good for you.

I ordered something on eBay for the holiday, paid extra for 24 hour delivery, waited in, then received an email saying they made a mistake and it's out of stock after all.  Nowhere else has it.

I bought something in Marks & Spencers as part of a set for my holiday, and one part doesn't fit, and every sodding M&S in the area has sold out.

It's sunny.  And hot.  Which means I either wear my holiday clothes now and have to take them away crumpled and worn, or swelter in warmer clothes for the next few days.  I'm opting for the latter and am currently burning up in a sweatshirt and joggers.  I look like a chav.

The holiday company left a message for us saying that we really should pre-book our airline seats because that way we will guarantee that we sit together.  Husband says no (it costs £12 per person) on principle that they're only doing it to make extra money, whereas I am now panicking that we'll get there and all the seats will have already been pre-booked by everyone else, and my 2.5 year old will end up sitting at the opposite end of the plane to me.

My head is about to explode through all the stress.  I need a holiday.  Oh!  That's why I'm stressed.