Calorie content of your pizza slice by slice, as I read it aloud to you. You’re really going to eat another one, wow. That’s 250 just like that! Plus 30 for the dip. Hey, barbecue is 3 less per tub.

An in-flight movie menu with the retro French re-release you wouldn’t come with me to see last April, while penned into the middle of a row by two strangers. One snores. The sound doesn’t work.

The back of a loud shampoo bottle whilst sitting, hungover, in the base of the shower at 2PM on a Sunday.

My neighbour’s mail after being shoved in my box again. Oh man, final warning, he’d better pay that one. This looks like it was opened accidentally, yeah?

The candidate’s name beside the tick, over and over and over again, just to make sure.

Don’t Walk just before I walked and you caught me around the waist before a truck came. Baby!

Anything on my timeline that isn’t Trump, through a tension headache.

Days of the week on my birth control packet. Is this THU or WED? Did I skip a day?

30 ways with kale. Is that bag in the crisper ok to use two days out of date? Is this the answer? Maybe I need 0 ways with kale, and to stop buying it.

An unexpected tax return after being made redundant, just about covering next month’s rent.

The change of your Facebook relationship status and all your tweets until 3am.

 Laura Waddell is a publisher and writer based in Glasgow, with fiction and criticism published in 3:AM Magazine, McSweeneys, The List, TLS, and the Books Nasty Women, Know Your Place and the Digital Critic.