Ruffles

Thursday was my first, Malteser free day in almost two weeks.  I know that you must be inordinately proud of me.

So, about 4 sales ago, I bought a capped sleeved work blouse from Next.  I had my eye on it when it was full price and once it was in the sale, (despite it being two sizes too small,) I had to have it.  I loved the vibrant orange colour and the caps were 4-ply ruffles, I look better with a bit of poof in the shoulder area.  I've been able to fit into it for a while but it has remained in my wardrobe with labels intact, since initial purchase. 

I finally decided I should wear it for work, I'm feeling brave enough to pull off orange and it'll go nicely with my charcoal grey work pants.  So I pull out the shirt, rip off the labels and suddenly, the stiff, short ruffles remind me of something Sue Ellen Ewing wore in the '80's.

It gets tossed in the wash to soften the right angled arm arrangement and comes out of the wash looking less vibrant but still as right angled.  If I'm feeling as brave next week, I'll give it a whirl, even if it's only once.

So, Friday.  I had such a lovely sleep last night. I woke to the sound of rain, again, and kept rearranging myself in my snugly bed to try to drop off again.  It was light, so without looking at the clock, I knew that it was past 4.30am... bonus.  After rearranging and snuggling for a good while, I did check the time on my alarm clock, it was 5.20am, which means it was 5.10am in real life, yes, I am one of those people who sets their alarm clock 10 minutes fast, deliberately.

I jog for 15 minutes, shower, breakfast and head out, just as I'm nearing my destination, the final track of the Chris Evan's Breakfast Show, (although it isn't Chris today,) is Morecambe and Wise singing "Bring Me Sunshine."  A huge smile escapes from my face, I'm sitting at traffic lights and I know that the person in the car to my left is looking at me and probably wondering what's made me smile.  I love this song and I can picture them both singing it at the end of their show, it just makes you feel happy.  Plus, my friend's 2.8 year old little boy has been taught this song at nursery, can you imagine how cute?

http://youtu.be/ZedhoqYdfTM  Just in case you need a pick-me-up.  I only have to look at Eric, (the one on the right,) and he makes me smile.

Anyhoo, I have a lovely time at Starbucks, the coffee is delightful, the music, unobtrusive, it's busy but in a good way, just a gentle hum of business in the background.  I read around 10 pages of my new book, write to you then indulge in a few minutes of Shape magazine.

After shopping and doing my work and pillow case ironing, J and I arrange to rendezvous at a Starbucks in our locale.  We haven't seen each other for a few weeks, not in person.  We chat for 45 minutes but it's J that is itching to get on to next on the agenda today and that's fine.  After killing some time in the teeming rain, I roll up, 45 minutes later for my waxing appointment. 

I'm still 10 minutes early so I park myself on one of the two chairs, waiting for Mandie to finish with her lady.  An elderly lady arrives shortly afterwards, she's a regular, amply fills the other chair and she is quite needy.  I pass her her bag, I pass her, her stick, she grips onto my arm to get from A to B which is only 3 feet away, I know I sound like a horrible human being but how did she make it out of her house?  She's done nothing but speak of her cold and catarrh since she sat and coughed next to me, she looks like a very clean lady, but with my OCD, I will now have to go home and put my first wear after the last wash jacket, in the wash again when I get home.  Mandie finishes with her last appointment, takes me upstairs to her treatment room, I explain that I have to wash my hands and she's waiting for me with a clean towel and then antibacterial gel.  I know I'm horrible, but if I make it to old age, I hope I don't start coughing on people.

Mandie, my beauty lady, is, well, I count her as a friend now,  I've been seeing her for so long.  We've both lost our Mum's so we have an innate understanding.  And it's basically like visiting a therapist when I go to see her, not that we talk about our Mum's all the time you understand, but when certain things crop up, she gets it.  So I'm there, she asks what's going on in my life, I bring her up to date and before you know it, we're both crying.  This is not the norm incidentally.  My mascara may be smudged but at least I'm fuzz free.

I didn't sleep great last night and woke feeling terrible, so the day has not gone as planned.  I just did what I had to, coffee'd, (only one though, and no chocolate coin today, it called for a shortbread biscuit to try to settle my stomach.)  Chatted with Fay, nipped into Elle Macpherson Intimates, (would be rude not to as there is a sale on,) bypassed the recycling, bank, home, had a sit down, two bowls of soup then did some housework, finally.  After that, I indulged in a "Sex and the City" 2 hour mini marathon, (Carrie's first book gets published, meets Berger for the first time, goes on a train with Samantha to... Atlantic City?  I can't actually remember, Charlotte meets Harry and he drips sweat all over the divorce papers.)  Ahhhh, happy TV memories.