Wednesday, 9 January 2013

things of little consequence

I am now back at the coal face.  I must say, I enjoyed putting on a bit of slap this morning and deciding upon shoes (the brown sandals, with the plaits; not the tan wedges, FYI).  It must have something about a return to routine and feeling like a careerist.  When I first graduated and started a full time job, dressing for work was a pleasure (though difficult and complicated by the piffling paychecks, nearly all of which went to fixing a fairly large dent I’d made in P’s car): lady-suits, high heels, white shirts.  And then I realised that you basically wear everything on a days-of-the-week rotation and that high heels do not last the distance.  I learned that it is not possible to extend the life of a pair of black heels by colouring the scuff marks with a vivid.  Stapling the hem of a skirt in desperation is a TERRIBLE stop-gap manoeuvre.  But I had a momentary enjoyment from my dress-for-work routine this morning just because I’ve been looking for the past two weeks much like P adopted me from the SPCA and hasn’t yet got round to clipping the matted tangles out of my coat. 


Speaking of cars in which I could put dents (which we weren't, really) we might have bought one.  Subject to an AA inspection and actually coughing up the funds, P has settled on a vehicle.  I am still of the view that it is a luxury that we shouldn’t be spending our dinero on just at present, but my husband is being intransigent (sometimes I find that quite attractive in a man, you?) and thus, if it passes said inspection and we pay, I will be increasing my consumption of our planet’s limited resources.  Must have said this before, but I’ve never owned a car before, which is yet another reason I really resent the purchase.  Hymph.


I should be attending the death throes of a hen party tonight.  The lovely bride is getting married on Saturday and is being taken today for a day of frivolity and festivity on Waiheke Island, tasting wines and no doubt being forced to guzzle a few.  I have no leave remaining to me so I’m in the office today and I’m meant to be joining the festivities in the Viaduct (gag) tonight.  You know, once everyone else is probably good and sozzled.  I’m a relative (but also a friend!) of the bride and I don’t know her girlfriends so I’m slightly nervous that I’ll be making small talk with my in-laws while having to play terrible games with plasticine or something (good god I hope they get that out of the way early in the day!).  Wish me luck.


I knew January was going to be work-y stressful.  I can feel the pressure-tummy coming on, I need to build up a head of steam and start working at full speed.  Trust this too, shall pass.  And, oh, fuck it.  I’m going to go book tickets to see my mummy now instead. 

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