October 24th, 2005

sigh, emily

work is the curse of the drinking classes


Last night glitzfrau hosted a delightful dinner party comprising herself, me, radegund and jane_the_23rd. It was great fun, but there was lots of booze, and neither radegund nor jane_the_23rd drank very much of it, which meant that somehow La Glitz and I drank it all. And I feel a bit wobbly. And I have loads of work to do. And I am still in my dressing gown.

Actually, it wasn't some sort of mad binge, and I don't feel particularly sick or headachey. But I do feel, literally, wobbly. If this wasn't a work day, I would spend it curled on the couch reading light literature. Unfortunately I've got to write 1600 words on literature that isn't light at all. Oh dear.
working lady of shallot


Why do I love reading Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, even though with the exception of Jenny Crusie and Meg Cabot's historical novels, I never actually read anything that fits into the American "romance novel" category (although daegaer and I have been known to go into the one Dublin shop that sells imported American romances and snigger at the covers. Our favourite one ever was called Invitation from a Rogue and had to be seen to be believed)?

Why does Ju Ju want to go out, and then want to come back in, and then come upstairs and climb onto the table by our bedroom window and shout and shout to be let out the window?

Why did I just eat a big bowl of chicken fried rice?

Why has my hair gone weird, giving me an entire week of bad hair days?

Why am I suffering from literary ennui, which involves me wandering around from bookshelf to bookshelf trying to figure out exactly what sort of book I'm in the mood for?

Why did I just end a sentence with a preposition?

Why did I go mad and order some Built By Wendy sale stuff for the first time in over a year?

Why can't David wash dishes and actually, like, clean them so someone else (ME) doesn't have to do them again later?