Things to do when avoidings things you have to do
Posting on LJ
Picking up my clothes from the bathroom floor.
On Friday I had a major ditherspaz because I had approx 15 minutes when I got in the door to have a shower, get tarted up and out onto a train to the city to be at Central by 6 40 or something ridiculous - I had got through the door at just after six. So I practically hurtled into the shower, narrowly missing dying at the hands of the tiles and had a rapidly steaming session followed by manic moisturing and hasty application of mascara. But everything fell down when I looked into my tarty wardrobe and was repelled by lack of clean good looking clothing plus I was having a Plumpy McPlumpson day so I felt like a lump - nothing in the wardrobe of fabulosity was prepared to make me look superattractive unless I doused myself in black tights etc and it was 28 degrees outside. The major problem was that a storm was brewing so I didn't know if one of those delightful southerlies was going to make me shiver my way to hypothermia city or if I ought to go outside in a negligee.
I compromised with a dress and leggings (a look I don't particularly like but which was convenient and had the added extra of helping me suck in my failing stomach muscles which post-100km walk have been neglected wilfully). And I figured I could always whip off the leggings but one vodka and half a champagne bottle later I didn't really care what I was wearing so all was well. And rain unleashed on Surry Hills anyway (we were at the Clock) but I had ignored the need for an umbrella, relying on a prevalence of taxis, which worked out just dandy as both Ash and Chren fell asleep around 10pm - yes on a Friday night - and we were packed off home. I had to wake up early for the Sassys anyway, but being home on a Friday at 10pm is sadenosity personified for me. And I wasn't in a state at that point to make good use of it by cleaning said bathroom of the knee deep clothing pool. It's still there. I fell over my fave black spanish top with the frilly (ay caramumba) flamenco thingo on the shoulder, which may have ripped. Oh well. When you look plump on a black top, you know things are going downhill.
Going for a jog tonight.
And I won't say anything about the sassys. But I am not a fan of self-praisology in front of people who had to get up early on a Saturday because they were forced to by their demon-driving office. Which is what it was. Urgh.
N.
procrastinatrix supremo
But I have had a one day weekend, which is sort of good - even less time to procrastinate, but I am making good use of it by not using to do all the outstanding things I must do.
Picking up my clothes from the bathroom floor.
On Friday I had a major ditherspaz because I had approx 15 minutes when I got in the door to have a shower, get tarted up and out onto a train to the city to be at Central by 6 40 or something ridiculous - I had got through the door at just after six. So I practically hurtled into the shower, narrowly missing dying at the hands of the tiles and had a rapidly steaming session followed by manic moisturing and hasty application of mascara. But everything fell down when I looked into my tarty wardrobe and was repelled by lack of clean good looking clothing plus I was having a Plumpy McPlumpson day so I felt like a lump - nothing in the wardrobe of fabulosity was prepared to make me look superattractive unless I doused myself in black tights etc and it was 28 degrees outside. The major problem was that a storm was brewing so I didn't know if one of those delightful southerlies was going to make me shiver my way to hypothermia city or if I ought to go outside in a negligee.
I compromised with a dress and leggings (a look I don't particularly like but which was convenient and had the added extra of helping me suck in my failing stomach muscles which post-100km walk have been neglected wilfully). And I figured I could always whip off the leggings but one vodka and half a champagne bottle later I didn't really care what I was wearing so all was well. And rain unleashed on Surry Hills anyway (we were at the Clock) but I had ignored the need for an umbrella, relying on a prevalence of taxis, which worked out just dandy as both Ash and Chren fell asleep around 10pm - yes on a Friday night - and we were packed off home. I had to wake up early for the Sassys anyway, but being home on a Friday at 10pm is sadenosity personified for me. And I wasn't in a state at that point to make good use of it by cleaning said bathroom of the knee deep clothing pool. It's still there. I fell over my fave black spanish top with the frilly (ay caramumba) flamenco thingo on the shoulder, which may have ripped. Oh well. When you look plump on a black top, you know things are going downhill.
Going for a jog tonight.
And I won't say anything about the sassys. But I am not a fan of self-praisology in front of people who had to get up early on a Saturday because they were forced to by their demon-driving office. Which is what it was. Urgh.
N.
procrastinatrix supremo
But I have had a one day weekend, which is sort of good - even less time to procrastinate, but I am making good use of it by not using to do all the outstanding things I must do.