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desperanceOof. Heavy bags are heavy.
Still, my purse is that much lighter. It's a compensation. I guess...
I forswore work this morning, in favour of making foodlists and shopping for them. I have been ... unwontedly efficient, and didn't even have to backtrack once, except in Waitrose, which is laid out ... most strangely. (Oh, and I went up an escalator in Fenwick's and then straight back down another one: I had neglected to look for the wild mushrooms which were of course not there.)
I now have many things, though I do still need more. There is so much cream in my fridge just now, it's almost certainly illegal without a licence (which I would never get: "you want to do what with it, Mr Brenchley...?").
Also mushrooms, in the mushroom-box-we-cannot-open-can-we-Mac?
Not yet, he murmurs. Silkily.
Next up, I should probably try to find all my spare ramekins (they're in a thing. Somewhere. It might help if I could remember what thing, or even what kind of thing, they're in) and my flexible friend the terrine mould. Which is not in anything, and might be anywhere. Sigh. I hate looking for things. There is one side of me that yearns for an ordered life. Minimalism, I understand you perfectly. I just ... cannot achieve you. *is disordered to the bone*
But now: I have shopped, and need not shop again for an hour or two; I have finished my reading-book; it's not quite lunchtime yet. That work I forswore before...?
*sighs*
*reaches for work*
Still, my purse is that much lighter. It's a compensation. I guess...
I forswore work this morning, in favour of making foodlists and shopping for them. I have been ... unwontedly efficient, and didn't even have to backtrack once, except in Waitrose, which is laid out ... most strangely. (Oh, and I went up an escalator in Fenwick's and then straight back down another one: I had neglected to look for the wild mushrooms which were of course not there.)
I now have many things, though I do still need more. There is so much cream in my fridge just now, it's almost certainly illegal without a licence (which I would never get: "you want to do what with it, Mr Brenchley...?").
Also mushrooms, in the mushroom-box-we-cannot-open-can-we-Mac?
Not yet, he murmurs. Silkily.
Next up, I should probably try to find all my spare ramekins (they're in a thing. Somewhere. It might help if I could remember what thing, or even what kind of thing, they're in) and my flexible friend the terrine mould. Which is not in anything, and might be anywhere. Sigh. I hate looking for things. There is one side of me that yearns for an ordered life. Minimalism, I understand you perfectly. I just ... cannot achieve you. *is disordered to the bone*
But now: I have shopped, and need not shop again for an hour or two; I have finished my reading-book; it's not quite lunchtime yet. That work I forswore before...?
*sighs*
*reaches for work*