i just lost at scrabble. 

sigh. 

im having a bath. 

bother . (the sequel , within hours, to the sunny message below. sigh)

So it's 3pm and my merry day has dipped just a tad, the boat has rocked but the good mood hasn't quite been thrown overboard (although it's admittedly crouching in the corner of said boat, looking a little green as it's white windlashed knuckles grip the sides) .

How did this happen on such a low key day, you might ask? The evils of pita bread (or more technically, my denial to see it as a bad thing , when too much is ingested ). I am quite the glutton. We've seen this before, many times in the past. Not often a glutton for food but for everything else. I will text until my phone bill explodes, read until my eyes water, watch a series until I have an inner monologue similar to the main character for weeks afterwards. And pita, was no exception to this. After testing the waters of the whole supertrendy avoiding wheat thing ( not with any illusion that it would make me cooler. my uncoolness is beyond repair. but was hoping nausea and stomach pain might not be) it seemed to work the treat. But could have just been in my head! It COULD have been, people. Despite numerous 'experiments' suggesting otherwise. WHO REALLY KNOWS. So had a pita pizza. Which turned into 2. which turned into pita for lunch the next day. Which turned into buying a loaf of wonnnnnderful and filling bread, having toast at night, toast in the morning and toast for lunch :I . And as of the night before last, ye olde feral stomachness has indeed returned (im going to blame the pita not the delicious bread, which is rye not wheat and really realllly hope it's wheat specific not gluten specific) . Coincidence? I maintain that it might be. But... it HAS been a while since I was sitting crouched in a chair feeling like I was in a hammock I couldn't stop. 

To add to the misfortune (can you use that term when it's self inflicted?) , after recently deciding a few more kilos wouldn't kill me/eating more is more good times/whatever other threads of thought came with that, I was truly looking forward to a) meeting boyfriend on lunchbreak and taking him to the cuuuutest cafe for muffin, caffeine and merry moments, and/or b) brunettis this eve. But alas. Neither came to / is coming to pass. And yet in an attempt to ease sick feeling have eaten 2 bananas (someone told me that worked?) and have a sneaking suspicion that whilst the social lovely part of going out to eat isn't gonna happen, the vast quantities will and just had to write 500 words on the effect of sudden weight gain so that's a little off putting. However that can be ignored. So can the stomach pains. What can't though, is the tragedy that is failing to make my boyfriend smile, the boy who I am SO lucky to have and really do love to pieces, and with that being one of the few things to do today (ahhh the joys of an easy Monday! such trickery though, the rest of the week doesn't look similar) it feels like a bit of a failure, at 3pm.  I very almost shouted at him (over nothing, might I add) while standing on the corner sensing impending doom, and have been far from the girlfriend I intended to be when I got up. That's kind of the worst part :I

sunny skies and calmer seas

It's fairly amazing to note that in the midst of a storm, sitting in the deceptively calm eye, I completely failed to notice my surroundings and the houses and cows and whatnot that were flying about in a bit of a dangerous manner. 

Now I'm sitting in metaphorical good weather and it's very very different. I ... oh. bother. My computer is about to die. But this is being published anyway. to remind me to finish it. 

Speaking of finishing, I need a Mary Poppins bag of hot chocolate. they end far too quickly , regardless of what size the cup is..

So it's a sunny Saturday..

(but actually quite a chilly one, and I'm sitting in front of the heater at the moment, but that's beside the point ..& the alliteration . )

..and what better thing to do than write pointless drivel down as I wait for my timetable to come online, toast my spine on the heater, and watch my adorable boyfriend who has similar problems to me with throwing things out, sort through a Box of Crap and try to weed out what is REALLY needed. Both the blog and the sorting are very Saturday morning activities, so... how awesome are we :I

The Box Of Crap sorting is actually quite similar to what I've been doing the last few days, metaphorically :/ . Going through my brain and chucking out bits and pieces and compulsions and habits and ideals and whatnot,that probably aren't needed, metaphorically sweeping and sticking a little Ambipurr airfreshener in there, and filling it with things that fit my lifestyle (or intended lifestyle) better. Satisfying.

I... oh. I was planning on writing quite a lot, and have run out of time (hope that's not something that happens repeatedly once term starts in 2 days.. ) . I'll be back. 

In other news though, the box-sorting boyfriend, who I quite literally adore, is being thrown to the parents for the second time tomorrow. Should I be worried? Normally I am. Nervous that they won't like him or vice versa, nervous in general. But oddly... not the case. Because I know that they DO like him (how could anybody not?) , what an odd sensation... 

erreroeorrroror.

No , the above title is not random keyboard mashing. It's the actual exact sound I made falling out of bed this morning. 

After almost a week of being a relatively zen bundle of energy, this Friday morning, the world is a bit heavy... crushing my skull, making it hard to open eyes, and making even breathing a bit of an effort. Ick. It's 8:43 but feels much too much like 3am. I could blame the high levels of activity in recent days (both nocturnal wanderings and daytime treks and runs and misadventures) but they're probably neutralised by hours of wintery reading and lying around and puzzle-doing. So instead I'll glare towards gluten, after being told to eat it again afterall, for several weeks and 'observe'. Nothing happened for a while but I officially feel pretty crap now. Still, the crusty sourdough bread and delicious cookies and such are worth it, so since it seems to be an accumulated effect.. I'll just opt for minimum amounts but not complete avoidance. Everybody wins. But pasta yesterday was probably a fail. Still, thanks to the invention of caffeine and nurofen... worth every bite. 

In other news, things are quite splendid. Suprisingly I haven't had as much time in the holidays to murder as I predicted. Friends run into work shifts which run into finishing books which run into other friends which run into music shows which run into family birthdays and all in all it's flying by, despite the lack of the boyfriend I've been missing but can apparently survive without, contrary to very unfeminist expectations before he dropped off the reception radar for over a week (possibly a good thing to remember).  

Uni is sorted, life is sorted, all is well. What an odd thing to post. Unfortunately, the world is NOT well, and a voyage into the news this morning screamed that from all directions but I've actually taken up too much time already and am now late. LATE, during the HOLIDAYS? there's meant to be no such thing. So it goes.

Random insert #1: My hair is shorter. And uneven. I got the dead ends (aka 50% of it) trimmed,, finally. Then decided to attack it with scissors while bored. Interesting...

Random insert #2: Being terrible at domesticity hasn't reduced my passion for it. I am ridiculously excited by mugs, jars, pots, pans, cooking, cleaning, and all things related. I spent 2.5 hours in a store for such things yesterday. (but bought nothing! budgeting success! Finally. This whole week has been, in fact. Just another ' factor adding to the overall ' Oh wow, I CAN do this' feeling that has happily followed me for a while now. 

Random insert #3: So glad Melbourne has Carly back

Operation AGE, stage 1.

So... a few things have happened to me and it's only 9:30. 

Firstly and fairly irrelevantly , I noticed my teeth are ever so slightly  shade shifting. And whilst for this I'd like to cite coffee and thus, indirectly, masses of productivity etc etc etc, we all know it's more likely to be due to an increase in red wine consumption. Indicating perhaps it's time for a bit of a lifestyle springclean.

Secondly, some little kid's Mum called me "Ma'am" and "the lady" as I waited for my  espresso at the vic market. Of course, this has happened before, and I'm aware it's something some people dread (although it could be worse; I have a friend who is constantly referred to with such terms but is in fact male..) as it heralds the inertia of the ageing process BUT ..not me. I revelled in it, after years of being carded from bars while holding my own passport, or hearing the all too familiar "You're HOW OLD?" or questions regarding my 'older' boyfriends (in this case, 2 years younger than me, if my horrific maths calculations are correct). nd while I plan never EVER to completely 'grow up' ( I don't think I could lose things like having to do assignments lying stomach-down on the floor in mismatched socks rather than at a desk, or watching cartoons or being coaxable into virtually anything provided a small amount of chocolate is involved) , and while it's clear I've 'grown up' significantly internally ( the recent presence of functional relationships, more vegetables, university credits and what not) , the truth is that in realms other than hospitality, writing or retail, a 24 year old who apparently appears to be in her early teens is suspiciously unhireable. And since the world keeps telling me I need a 'real job' and I've paid allllll this money towards education, something's gotta give.

But where to start? 

This morning, in the split second as  my espresso was passed over the counter and the little kid, simultaneously, started crying about how badly he wanted cake for breakfast (don't we all? ) , it occured to me that my boots might be magic. Not in a Wizard of Oz 'home sweet home' way but more a 'propel me rapidly through time' way. When wearing boots not beat up old converse, the 'ma'am' titles occur more frequently. So it's in the clothing, is it? ( and no, don't suggest layering expensive foundation and blacking out my eyes because it's uncomfortable, and besides.. I don't know how. ) . What a pity, then, that sensible 20-something attire is generally miles too large for those with small frames and too often comes in drab dreary colours and with a frustratingly nosy salesperson attached. 

There must be some kind of compromise? there must be. Today, I shall explore that. In the name of my future via financial power (handy for the kids I have decided I would not necissarily vomit apon giving birth to. That's internal ageing too, right ? ) , I will investigate. 

And probably return to pointlessly write about today's news, meetings with Swan and other trash. But that, like the mismatched socks, its just unfightable. 

Oh and yes, I realise if this is the worst thing happening to me personally at the moment, then I'm doing ok!! Which is surprising but kind of swell.  It also leaves more time to try to rectify the things that AREN'T ok and aren't happening to me personally. 

zzzz

I am a whole new kind of sleepy. Can't believe it's 6:34, GOOD GOD, Woman! Wake up! 

...or don't. I mean, who makes these rules? I'm going to take a nap :I