Skip to main content

Fabulous Friday Frivolity.


Welcome, felicitously frolicsome friends!

I am aware that this is late. Read number four and take pity on me. Or not. It's whatever. *grin*

My five happy things for the week are as follows:

1. I'd forgotten what it was like to be a grownup. Let me explain. I dress for work, not for what washes well. I haven't had a single person wipe their face on me, and the words "get your finger out of your nose" haven't been necessary. I've tidied the kitchen in the office a couple of times, but it's been because I was waiting for the kettle to boil and I wanted to, not because it was my job. Roll on, office days. Also, the extra added bonus of this office is that I'm busy all the time. Got to work at eight this morning and didn't realise time had passed until it was one in the afternoon, at which point I forced myself to leave the office for lunch to prevent permanently square eyes. I would much rather be busy and have a day that passes quickly than count minutes until the hypothetical bell rings, so it's a definite plus.

2. I went out with the girls last night...! No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you, I, Gabs, left the house on a weeknight. I finally got to test the menu at Ping Pong, which included a lemon/basil/cracked black pepper martini that was, while strange, completely delicious. We ate an obscene amount of food, talked and laughed, and a good time was had by all.


3. I *may* have left my house keys inside our securely locked flat on Wednesday, which forced me to take shelter from the Great British Public in TK Maxx while I waited for Himself to make it back to Hammersmith. This jaunt *may* have resulted in my buying one of my favourite products for which to shop. That's right, storage jars. They're pretty, they're functional, and if the cats break them, I'll murder them both. Look how prettily my cottony products look, nested in their gleaming confines. Well appointed storage gives me the warm fuzzies.

4. You might want to sit down for this one. Not only did I leave the house yesterday, but I have plans tonight as well. I'll wait while you collect your collective selves. That's right, I'm going out tonight with a friend from a previous office job. Imminent plans in Chiswick straight after work also means that I took the motorbike to work today, and the benefits are threefold. 1) The ride when it's sunny and warm out through practically deserted Notting Hill is just lovely. 2) The journey only takes half the time of taking the tube. 3) To take the tube is roughly five pounds a day. To take the bike is £3.50 parking per week. Score.

5. I think I've made a new friend. That said, she's facebook stalking me and has begun reading this blog, so I won't be too glowing or she'll get a big head. It's rare for me to make friends in roughly the same situation I'm in currently (not twenty years old, not single, not up for going out and getting drunk until the wee sma's every night) so it's kinda nice. And that's all I'll say. *grin*

SO, pretty good week, all told. Hope yours was copacetic as well.

Comments

  1. Ever thought about the idea that you get warm fuzzies from your "well appointed storage" because you place warm fuzzies in your "well appointed storage? Just a random and skewed perspective I have built upon glancing over your poetic pix.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm a warm and fuzzy kind of girl, what can I say. : ) May the cycle of fuzziness roll on.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

Dreams and other nocturnal habits.

I've always been a dreamer, in the literal sense. From a very young age I've been able to remember my dreams, and once I started a dream one night and finished it the next. This sounds great, and I've had some seriously fabulous nocturnal journeys through time and space, but on the flip side, not all dreams are good ones. I've had some proper toe-curling nightmares, and some of the worst ones have been in my adult years. The reason this is on my mind particularly right now is that I had a pretty gnarly one night before last, and during yesterday's aforementioned pestering phone call to my sister I told her about it. She told me that her boyfriend had been doing a little reading about dreams in general, and had researched (and actually put into practice) a tactic of dreaming deliberately. The research he found described the way to consciously go to sleep with a certain event or setting in mind, which basically ensures where your dreams will go. Apparently this