Keeping Up With the Joneses
I achieved more than I thought I would yesterday...the sun shone brightly (unfortunately I can't take credit for that), so I got the washing out and went for another walk along the beach with a good friend. I came home mopped the floors, unpacked the dishwasher, stripped my bed, yadda yadda yadda...
Don't you just love fresh sheets on the bed? Especially when you've just shaved your legs? Every time you move your legs it kinda feels like smooth cool silk wafting around them...you hear me right? Same can't be said for newly shaved armpits, but there ya go.
*gives that more thought while staring out window*
God, I need to clean those ranchsliders badly.
I'm having LOTS of "Shirley Valentine" moments these days. Have you seen that movie? I thought everyone had. Middle-aged woman, her children are grown and left home, she doesn't work outside the house, and her company consists of her husband, when he comes home after work each night. She's lonely for company and 'befriends' a wall in her kitchen. (I know!) She used to talk to that wall all the time while she went about her business in the kitchen.
In a nutshell? She's bored shitless and restless with life, she packs up one day and heads off to Greece, leaving her husband a note. She rediscovers herself and has an affair with a smooth talking Greek, ponders life in general and what she wants from it, blah opa blah....
I don't have a particular wall....I basically just talk to myself...so no wall in my house is favourited...I am, if nothing else, an equal opportunity employer. Go me.
I digress.
I'm not well at the moment. Physically that is, not mentally. My mental state is pretty good, although I do have moments of wonder about the state of it's balance, but for the most part it's sound. Physically? I've got what I have to assume is a common cold. Nothing drastic. Snotty, running nose, hacking cough, sore head, just generally bleech.
Thurs and Fri last week, I was anything but a brilliant advertisment on the front desk at the surgery. Sneezing and sniffing, constantly putting people on hold so I could blow my nose kinda thing. Not to mention the coffee I spilled down my front Friday afternoon. So yeah, I not only looked red-nosed and tired, but filthy in the bargain. Go me yet again.
Anyway, I figured it was best to hunker down at home and rest for the night. I rented a couple of DVDs on the way back from the beach. "The Holiday" - good light entertainment with a spray of laughter and a predictable end....and "Friends With Money" - interesting insight into the lives of married couples and one of their close female friends who's single...a little different, some may find it boring, and the ending frustrated the shite out of me.
I felt SO Bridget-Jones'-Diaryish last night! I really did. Home alone, single, smoking, watching telly....I went and found a pair of Cameron's drumsticks in his bedroom and lay on the couch, waiting for the opening notes of "All By Myself" to ring out. Having found myself in this predicament, the least I could do was be slightly more authentic if that should actually happen. Do they still call it air-drumming if you have REAL sticks? Who knows? Who cares? And who ARE 'they'??
Ya know? It is more than apparent that I am not done with recuperating. I'd like to blame the above nonsense on medication, but alas I have taken none. *sigh* Time for an afternoon sleep methinks.
Don't you just love fresh sheets on the bed? Especially when you've just shaved your legs? Every time you move your legs it kinda feels like smooth cool silk wafting around them...you hear me right? Same can't be said for newly shaved armpits, but there ya go.
*gives that more thought while staring out window*
God, I need to clean those ranchsliders badly.
I'm having LOTS of "Shirley Valentine" moments these days. Have you seen that movie? I thought everyone had. Middle-aged woman, her children are grown and left home, she doesn't work outside the house, and her company consists of her husband, when he comes home after work each night. She's lonely for company and 'befriends' a wall in her kitchen. (I know!) She used to talk to that wall all the time while she went about her business in the kitchen.
In a nutshell? She's bored shitless and restless with life, she packs up one day and heads off to Greece, leaving her husband a note. She rediscovers herself and has an affair with a smooth talking Greek, ponders life in general and what she wants from it, blah opa blah....
I don't have a particular wall....I basically just talk to myself...so no wall in my house is favourited...I am, if nothing else, an equal opportunity employer. Go me.
I digress.
I'm not well at the moment. Physically that is, not mentally. My mental state is pretty good, although I do have moments of wonder about the state of it's balance, but for the most part it's sound. Physically? I've got what I have to assume is a common cold. Nothing drastic. Snotty, running nose, hacking cough, sore head, just generally bleech.
Thurs and Fri last week, I was anything but a brilliant advertisment on the front desk at the surgery. Sneezing and sniffing, constantly putting people on hold so I could blow my nose kinda thing. Not to mention the coffee I spilled down my front Friday afternoon. So yeah, I not only looked red-nosed and tired, but filthy in the bargain. Go me yet again.
Anyway, I figured it was best to hunker down at home and rest for the night. I rented a couple of DVDs on the way back from the beach. "The Holiday" - good light entertainment with a spray of laughter and a predictable end....and "Friends With Money" - interesting insight into the lives of married couples and one of their close female friends who's single...a little different, some may find it boring, and the ending frustrated the shite out of me.
I felt SO Bridget-Jones'-Diaryish last night! I really did. Home alone, single, smoking, watching telly....I went and found a pair of Cameron's drumsticks in his bedroom and lay on the couch, waiting for the opening notes of "All By Myself" to ring out. Having found myself in this predicament, the least I could do was be slightly more authentic if that should actually happen. Do they still call it air-drumming if you have REAL sticks? Who knows? Who cares? And who ARE 'they'??
Ya know? It is more than apparent that I am not done with recuperating. I'd like to blame the above nonsense on medication, but alas I have taken none. *sigh* Time for an afternoon sleep methinks.
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