Posts Tagged ‘hearts’

luggage and hearts and rings on my fingers

January 28, 2010

“I don’t have to worry about emotional baggage I can sell it on eBay.”


Of the packing variety. Almost there.

And hearts…

Why is it exes always show up out of the blue without a comprehensible reason for re-entering your life?

And rings on my fingers…

The favourite ring that I found under my old wardrobe. Heaven forbid how it came to be there.

But basically this:

1. I treated myself to a new haircut, facial, pedicure, manicure, waxing and massage yesterday.

2. I pretended to pack, all the while crawling into places made for a far smaller person than me, of course with the added benefit of finding forgotten or presumed lost jewellery.

3. I poked fun at my own inability to be coherent when answering the phone. Communication is not one of my strong points.

4. I found out that the local supermarket sells sugar cubes. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard of this before.

5. I spent too much of the afternoon attempting to cook, considering I’ve decided that holding a dinner party is the exact need-to-do for an eighteenth birthday.

6. I taste-tested my own horrible cooking and am now feeling sick, thus deciding that sugar cubes would fix that problem.

7. It’s one-hour away from  a couple dozen friends, family and frenemies entering this place I call a home and berating me about the lack of productive activity in my day.

8. I’ve now decided it’s a good thing that I can’t cook. It might shut them up.

9. I’ve also decided that now is the perfect time to write a new bloggy up considering I’ve recently drenched myself in cold water (who knew you needed to replace old water heating systems?!), attempted to find an outfit that won’t raise eyebrows, added way too much product to my now short and spiky ink of a haircut and even found I now lack the ability to apply make-up without it going everywhere on my face.

So here I sit, looking a bit like a clown and wondering why-oh-why my smile is lopsided. (Damn you webcam!) I’m also considering how completely empty the house now looks without majority of my junk everywhere. I can even see the carpet, not that I knew I had carpet…

I’ve also come around to the fact that no matter how much distance I put between myself and my past, there’s always going to be some annoying person willing to spoil the illusion.

So… annoyingly rambling as usual, but that’s what you get for actually reading my horrendous writing. You get squabble. Not intelligent squabble either.

– Cal.