Oh, hi, happy holidays everyone. I have never failed at Holidailies is such a spectacular fashion, so let’s celebrate! Woo.
Actually, I had an OK Christmas. Quiet, but OK. I look forward to boozing it up more next year when Jackie comes to stay.
But then Boxing Day, I felt PMS-y, then MS-y, then slightly food-poisoned (my own quiche betrayed me, apparently) and sinus-y! My (not-at-all) hard-won days off were well spent watching all of ‘Black Books’ and most of the last few years of Big Fat Quizzes while feeling sorry for myself. Though I did hang out with Richard briefly on Thursday, during which I knit, and he put together vape gear, and we spoke every few minutes, mostly to complai about the Beck Pandora station. Party!
I have a day and a half left in my ‘holiday’, so I’m going to go to the Glebe and meet Piotr for beers on someone else’s dime (after he spends hours in Birdman, presumably), then brunch tomorrow with my trivia peoples, to whom I’d like to apologize because I have already given away most of my Christmas baking (We’ve run out of fudge! What the hayl?) and haven’t finished making their gifts. (I’m a jerk x 2!)
If I sound slightly mad, it’s because I rounded off a morning of Bailey’s-laden coffee and truffle ‘testing’ with pancakes and maple syrup. I expect the sugar crash will be epic. Hence beers this afternoon. It’s all about balance, eh?
I am kicking myself for not writing in the last few days, not just this hugely popular blog (ha), but, y’know, anything at all. Like many people, I’m so deadline-oriented that sometimes I can’t get started on anything, even if I’ve had an idea percolating for weeks/months/years, unless I know I absolutely have to, so if anyone knows anywhere to submit comedy scripts or non-fiction ‘humourous’ near-drivel, let me know. Maybe it will help me kick my own arse.