You know when you do something stupid or careless in your car, like grate the gearbox when you’re going into reverse to park (and ElsaDaughter calls me the Queen of Reverse Parking, for the record – I’m really that good at it) and there are work men looking at you scathingly and leeringly at the same time? That happened to me today. So I just smiled an “Oops, silly little me!” smile and went on my merry way. Fuckers. I thought.
Today was by far the best day I’ve had in ages. I did struggle to get up, for a couple of hours and for a little while I thought about going back to bed to sod it all… but porridge helped. Never underestimate warm milky carbs in the morning. With syrup. And blueberries. And other good stuff. Then a shower and a nice dress and off I trotted into town to have hot chocolate with a nice man, The Jeweller, we’ll call him. Such a sweetie. Quick innocent date with lots of compliments and chit chat but not a dickie bird from him since. I’m not sure why. The whole broad daylight thing may have scared him off. Oh well.
Then I called to The Rose of Tralee’s, having reclaimed my perfectly parked car before the workmen could wolf whistle or tut tut me. Mmm, homemade brown bread (seriously, you’d pay good money for it) and Thai soup which wasn’t the only thing that warned the heart. Smiley baby (yes, I know I keep pointing out that I’m not a baby person) and good girly chat. Delicious.
When I got home I sent a couple of emails. Shit, I just remembered something I was meant to do and I totally forgot. It’s ok – you can do it in the morning. Just get out of bed on time.
Then… wait for it… I ran four miles! Again, don’t ask about the time. But it was steady and pleasant and mind clearing and sufficiently sweaty to be endorphin producing. I did wonder why my hoodie was so tight, blaming the tumble dryer, till I realised I was wearing ElsaDaughter’s: we have identical Leinster hoodies, simply because kids’ clothes fit me, because I’m so short, so I bought a size bigger for me when I bought hers. She’s started to “borrow” my clothes alot. Now I get why sisters are territorial about their stuff: you usually don’t get it back.
And, oh my god, I’m amazed at my own awesomeness today… I cooked a proper dinner! Mash, green vegetables, chops. And I walked the dogs. And had a shower, shaved my legs and did my tan (even though I personally scoff at fake tan and I do like the porcelain look I can’t deny lathering myself in the molten bronze makes me feel alot better: having blue cold skin in the Irish winter is really not so cute) and nails. And now I’m writing. I also listened to two history podcasts and washed the hall, stairs and landing floors. How am I not getting a medal from Michael D for all this?!
PS. The Tanatomicals in the picture is my favourite tan ever. And it’s cheap as chips online. You literally, and I use that word carefully, can’t mess it up. Well I did once, but I was drunk. Tip of the day: don’t do your tan while drunk. It ends badly, for you, and the tan.