etc.

Best kiss stories over at Que Sera, go read.

I just got a message from my sister saying that they had just toured the caves at Moet & Chandon. So I took a virtual tour.

I was off work yesterday (which is why I was home to administer first aid to the leaky window in case you were wondering) and I spent all day at my desk making all sorts of good, wholesome progress. Ditto for this morning, I am now about 900 words away from my limit, and even though we’re only talking about a first draft, I’m taking huge, exhale-worthy relief and solace in the fact that those 900 words will be knocked off before the day is out, leaving me with a whopping 10 unexpected days to polish, proof, farm out to other proofers, and render this baby into suitable first draft form. All that worry, all for nothing.

So when all your time is being spent poring over a desk, something has to suffer, right? Well, just about everything has suffered. My diet yesterday consisted of one plain yoghurt, three cups of tea, two hot dogs with ketchup; the house too is suffering, dust bunnies have joined forces with cat hair to form masses that threaten to take over every corner of this house, we’re talking about tumbleweed-sized lumps that our cats are cowering before; and then there’s the desk. When we bought the desk from the previous owners of the house (they would have had to break it down to get it out of the room and down two flights of stairs and it likely would not have survived reassembly), I remember half-thinking there’s no WAY we’re EVER going to need a desk that size, je-sus. Given that I’ve managed to cover practically every square inch of it, if we hadn’t bought it, regret would be coming around to bite me in the butt right about now.

Oh and both the mail man and the courier guy rang my doorbell before dropping off my stuff so nothing was lost to wind and rain after all. I stand humbled.