My arm hurts, I'm tired, I'm p*ssed off and my shoes broke

My arm hurts
I went to yoga last night after a two week break. The yoga lady was more cruel than usual and kept forcibly bending my body into unnatural, painful positions and then saying "Yes! Like that! Now hold for 8 breaths! I said hold!!". I'm always a bit achey after yoga but last night was something else. I woke up this morning and couldn't even lift my hairbrush my arm hurt so much. I've had to keep it close to my chest because even allowing it to dangle by my side really hurts. If it wasn't for the fact that yoga is great for stretching out my muscles after I've been lifting in the weights room and that I want to be able to do the splits both ways come James' birthday in April, I would give up.

I'm tired
Since I've got back from Rome I've been knackered, despite having 2 early nights and staying away form alcohol. Either sleeping in the airport for 8 hours has longlasting effects or I'm just generally run down.

I'm p*ssed off
At everyone, about everything. I just want to be left alone to stay under the duvet all day. It f*cks me off that:
(a) My sister owes me so much money but yet never fulfills her promises to pay me back.
(b) That my sister moved to Manchester after ignoring everyone who told her it was a bad idea and then couldn't afford to pay her rent and then had to move back home and in so doing kicked me out of my bedroom so her and her noisy kids could use it meaning I have to share with my moody sister at the age of 22.
(c) That I do laundry at home, leave it in the clean laundry pile and then get back home and half of it is missing and everyone promises they haven't borrowed it without my permission i.e. stolen it.
(d) That my bank won't give me a one month holiday period for my student loan so that I have enough money for travelling.
(e) I'm not as skinny as I want to be, my legs are dry and the beautician who did my brazilian left loads of stray bits so it just looks silly.

My shoes broke
By the time I walked to the station today my feet were soaking wet. Wondering why, I looked down at my soles to discover that they were hanging off by a thread. How that happened from this morning to this evening, I don't know. I decided to go shopping for shoes right away only to discover that:
(a) Dorothy Perkins had no size 5 shoes left. What. The. F*ck. Thats like the most common shoe size! What's the point in having MASSIVE posters saying "20% OFF EVERYTHING" and then having a crap supply of products??
(b) Next did have shoes in a size 5 but despite the fact that I am a small size 5 I couoldn't fit them. And of course they had sold out of size 5 and a halfs in the 4 pairs of shoes I was willing to buy.
(c) New Look sell shite shoes.

At that point I gave up.

Rome

Rome was amazing! We visited all the old ruins and even attended a papal address at the Vatican. We tried to climb to the top of St Peter's Basilica but James, bless him, felt faint half-way up and we had to come back down, passing old ladies headed to the top. I must say, I do feel a bit smug that I spent a whole 5 days with James and not only didn't want to kill him but still love him. It was definately a brilliant way to celebrate the anniversary of the date we first met - can't believe it's been a year already AND haven't got a clue what to do next year to top this! But, as always, you get what you pay for with budget airlines. On the way back we had boarded the plane when, after about 30 minutes, we were asked to get off again because there was a problem with the engine (why did it take so long for them to spot this??). The flight was delayed SIX HOURS and anyone who has been to Ciampino knows that after reading 3 magazines, playing rock paper scissors and 'I spy', there is nothing to do there for six hours. I will NEVER EVER fly with them again (I know I said that last time).