Wordle. PSHAW is not a word, and I’m getting sick of your gaslighting, you mean app. Half of the puzzles feel made up these days and I’m sick of it. I want you to think long and hard about what you’ve done. You can throw us 'adieu' as a sign of good faith when you’re ready to be reasonable again.

Different kinds of socks. While I would rather walk barefoot in the desert than wear the ridiculous calf-high socks my 17-year-old seems to find acceptable, I’m considering just wearing bed socks full time now. I spent the 90s and early 2000s suffering in low-cut socks, and I think I deserve comfort.

Budgeting tips from Instagram. We’re not out here eating lobster and eye fillet steak, mate. I know how to bulk cook, use cheap cuts and seasonal or frozen vegetables, but grocery prices are rising so fast it’s getting hard to feed a family for under $300 a week. Unless your budget tip involves helpful advice like knocking over a liquor store to pay for berries, it’s not helpful.

Actually using budget tips from Instagram. I bought a bulk bag of chips instead of the individually-portioned ones and the kids demolished the whole thing while watching a movie. I also made pizza scrolls instead of buying lunch things from Baker's Delight and they were all gone by the end of the weekend. In other news, I bought three kilos of oranges that are currently rotting in the fruit bowl because nobody likes oranges anymore.

Critical dexcom alerts. So, to recap, I’ve had diabetes since childhood but I’ve recently changed to a different continuous glucose monitor. This is incredible technology I could have only dreamt of as a child. However, this new system has an alarm that can’t be silenced for extended periods or switched off at all. I know my blood sugar is low, that’s why I’m over here mainlining killer pythons. Stop yelling at me!

My husband’s Discord account. He left it logged in on my laptop, so I went through his messages, hoping to find some excellent gossip. Unfortunately, men don’t talk about their feelings or challenges, so all I’ve seen is gaming talk, golf swing tips and memes that would get them immediately hauled into HR if they shared them at work.

This heatwave we’re having. I’m currently sitting at home in a sleeveless dress and I’m sweating profusely. I understand this is probably menopause-related because it’s minus four outside, but I’m simply not coping. The other night, when I refused to let my husband turn our heater on he told me I’m solely responsible for global warming. He might not be wrong. It’s so, so hot.

Arnott’s Monte Carlo biscuits. Where has the filling gone? It used to have a creamy vanilla layer, topped with a swirl of berry jam that was sandwiched between two delightfully crunchy bikkies. Today you are but a shadow of your former self and finding the creamy centre is the world’s most disappointing game of hide-and-seek these days. I don’t have the emotional resilience for another victim of shrinkflation.

QR codes. I will no longer be using them, thank you. If you don’t have a printed copy of your menu, I’m not ordering anything. I came here for a steak sandwich, not to pass an IT competency test. Also, you don’t need my email to hand me a receipt for my haircut or my new glasses. There’s a printer next to you, I can see it. You can print one out while I glare at you.

Lastly, and most importantly, the “listen to your body” health advice. If I listened to my body I’d drink nothing but iced coffee, eat only steamed dumplings, and I’d have both a morning and afternoon nap. I need advice tailored to my insane hormonal situation. Drink water, eat something green, and don’t google divorce lawyers just because your husband blew his nose twice. Three times remains fair game, however.