First, I can’t for the life of me understand why flannelette pyjamas aren’t socially acceptable dress for every aspect of every day. Particularly for work, and particularly hot pink ones with zebras on them.
Second, hi. I am still alive, honest. The last two weeks have utterly kicked my ass, and culminated last night in me falling asleep not only on the boy, but on his birthday. Shame on me.
Happy birthday mister – you = joy.
I’ve been more then a bit absent from the interwebs. It’s not really a ‘oh man my life is far too busy being fabulous’ thing – I’m just pulled in a few too many directions at the moment. And the one direction I want to go, the one place I want to be, is the one direction unselfishly not pulling. At least, not in that annoying way.
A feel a little like I’m tilting on a precipice. The precipice of something wonderful on one hand – the idea of owning a little house in Newtown is crystallizing into a reality that’s hard to comprehend at times. But on the other hand I’m a little nervous about losing my balance and pitching over the edge – I have a feeling, if I can’t balance everything I’ve got going on right now, it will be a looooooong way down.
One day at a time though. At least, that’s the plan. Well, that, and potentially dropping a carpet bomb on my office.
That’s a bit violent isn’t it.
I gotta find time for the music. You know how much music I’ve listened to this week? Actually, my Last FM page can tell you that – sweet fuck all. Also, the definition of frustration is wanting to hear Twist by Frightened Rabbit – like, craving the song – and not owning the album.
Oh, wait. Let’s all thank the intertron gods for MySpace. And Fat Cat Records for their online ordering facility.
Driving home tonight (well, driving to work) I had all intentions of a well-written, eloquent and profound post that was at least 3 pages long. I guess two thirds of a disjointed, random bunch of words is better then nothing. Right?