This morning I was awakened by The Mister stroking my back. That made for sweet distraction from the weather that lives in my left arm. It swears snow or rain will be coming soon. My phone disagrees, but the laptop says the barometer’s at 30 and falling.
Without an accurate weather report, I can’t possibly know what to do with my hair. My arm tells me a straightening iron is a waste of time. Humidity is at 80% so perhaps my hair would enjoy air-drying with a lot of Chi oil.
We’re going to a party later.
We don’t often go to parties. I’m too introverted to enjoy much of a social life.
Me at a party is a multi-factorial situation relying heavily on the people, the atmosphere, the state of my hair, the music, the drinks, and the food. I can be any one of these people:
1. The wallflower, sitting in the corner, observing quietly, people-watching and counting random whatevers until I am at home in my sweat pants. there are 36 ties at this party…189 ceiling tiles…
drunk uninhibited, witty half of the most charming token straight couple you ever did meet.
3. The wasted white girl who keeps losing clothes and will not stop dancing until she’s offered sex followed by eggs-over-easy and toast.
I have no idea what I’m going to wear. We’ve entered that weird layering time of year where all of my clothes and shoes seem complicated. It’s too warm for this, but still too cool for that.
I’m gonna polish my nails for the first time in months. This winter has rendered my nails brittle, and they crack in straight lines as they’re smashed into this and that. FIL says he’s had the same trouble, but then, he never paints his. I haven’t decided on a color yet, either. Dark as purple goes, red, or a peachy coral? Feel free to chime in about that.
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