On Friday night, my friend Dave come over for birthday drinks. We watched a movie and sat around chatting then he left to drive home. Within minutes, he knocked on my window. His car was gone. I went out and it definitely had disappeared. Then my sister came out to help check, even though it had been directly across the road from our house. It felt unreal, like when you think your car has gone from the shopping centre car park but really it's on another level. But there are no levels outside my house. The car was most definitely gone.

I drove Dave to the police station then home. We cursed out the scum who do these things. Anita and I decided to become Veronica Mars style detectives and solve the case. We had some nifty ideas, like asking the neighbours if they'd seen anything and looking for clues.

Saturday the cops rang Dave. They found his car. Around the corner from my house, with the stereo and ashtray stolen. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely overjoyed that Dave got his car back and all, but it kinda kills your girl-detective rep when the car is discovered around the corner. I had thought of searching the nearby streets on the way home but I thought the perps (and car) would be long gone... and it was late and petrol isn't cheap. Now Dave says I'm a horrible detective. But I would have found it eventually. Who knew the cops were so on the ball?

Last night Anita and I watched National Lampoon's Barely Legal - a great movie if you like purile teen humour (we do) and made pretty sparkly signs to educate the housemates. Signs like - "please flush the toilet" and "don't leave your washing up in the kitchen for a week." I'm sure they'll welcome the opportunity for self-improvement.

My doctor said I could go back to the gym this weekend. He lied. I could no more go to the gym than I could... well find a missing car parked around the corner. Maybe I could go, but I sure couldn't exercise while I was there. I'm getting fed up. I feel like every weekend all I do is rest and sleep so I'm fit enough to go to work on Monday. I want my life back. My City to Surf running schedule is gathering dust. I haven't been eating much because I've lost interest but when I do eat, I've been living on lozenges and chocolate. Not such a balanced diet.

I have a new favourite drink - water with lemon juice. It's like lemon cordial without the annoying, sickly sugar. Yum. I did get some things achieved this weekend - changed and laundered the bed linen (esp nice after having night sweats last week), rewrote a chapter of my book.

Tonight Anita and I were chatting about stuff, like if we could time travel back and met our past selves, what we'd say to them. Our past selves had an excitement in living that we lack now. The sagest advice we could up with was to stock up on Dusty Rose lipstick before it gets discontinued. Yep, we are that shallow. But I think, looking back on any of my past selves, the main thing I'd say would be to believe in myself. So now I'm giving that advice to my current self, to save my future self from the need.

I will believe - that I can finish my novel and get it published, that I can get to my goal weight and maintain it, that I am fabulous and sexy, that what I want to do right now is the right thing to do.