On Sunday night, while watching Nashville on the sofa, I sent myself an email reminder to order a new floor mop.
I’m not sure whether this is a sign that I’ve finally reached adulthood, or if I just really, really need to get out more (Suspect the latter, to be honest), but I DO know it was pretty representative of my week, so I figured it was as good a place to start this diary post as any. Book publishers are going to have an all-out WAR over who gets to publish my memoir, aren’t they? I’ll really have to start thinking seriously about how much I’ll sell the film rights for, and what I’ll wear to the premiere. I wonder what talk shows I’ll get to be on? Do you think THEY supply the clothes, or do you have to take your own? SO much to think about, seriously! Maybe I should just concentrate on the floor mop for now, though? That sounds like a plan…
Anyway! Here’s some stuff that happened this week…
Terry and I went out to dinner
This shouldn’t be noteworthy AT ALL, and under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be, but we’ve been both been so busy working lately that I feel like we haven’t had a second to ourselves, so it was good to be able to just feel like normal people for a couple of hours. I said I was going to try to survive the winter by making lots of little plans, even it was just going out to dinner or something, but between one thing and another, it just hasn’t happened, which is a shame, because we all need that bit of downtime, don’t we?
My dad put my watch collection to shame
Meanwhile, after writing about my watch collection last week, I went to visit my parents, and my dad presented me with this:
Which, as I predicted he would tell me, is what A REAL watch collection looks like. Some of these watches are older than I am now: there’s one my grandparents gave my dad for his 21st birthday, and others I can remember him wearing when I was a little girl, and which he’s kept around because he can be a bit of a softie about stuff like this. Let’s not forget that my dad was the only person on my side during The Great Goodie Bowl Fiasco of ’14, after all. Anyway, I can only aspire to one day owning a collection to rival my dad’s, but it’s a noble ambition, and I’m totally up for it, so let the watch shopping commence!
OK, so I didn’t run very far, or very fast, but I did it, and you can insert your own motivational quote here. I’d actually taken my Fitbit off in a fit of frustration the week before, and was telling myself I couldn’t POSSIBLY find time for running, what with all of the important photos I have to take, and words I have to write, etc etc. Then, on Monday morning, my friend Jolene, who is aware of The Struggle, messaged me on Fitbit suggesting we both give it another go, and that turned out to be just the nudge I needed. Well, that and the fact that this message just so happened to coincide with me getting a free three-month trial of Apple Music, which means I once again have access to the full Taylor Swift back catalogue. On that first day, I got on the treadmill, thinking I’d just do a quick, 10 minute run, to get myself back into it: 30 minutes later, though, Terry passed the door of the room and caught me right in the middle of an air guitar solo, while still running on the treadmill, so thanks, Tay Tay: I couldn’t do it without you. Imagine me punching the air right now, and screaming, “YOU GO GIRL!” Or, on second thoughts, don’t.
I missed multiple deliveries…
… which then had to be collected in person from the post office: an operation which was actually trickier than it sounds, on account of how we’re currently engaged in one of those very British, “If you’re going to park your car there, then I’m going to park MY car right here,” battles with the neighbours. I realise this is very immature of us, but hey, what can you do? (Other than the normal, adult, thing, obviously?) We’re now onto day 2 of the standoff, and if you’re wondering who’ll crack first, don’t worry, because even if I have to buy a second car, just to make my point, as God is my witness, I’ll do it. As Miley Cyrus once said, after all, I didn’t mean to start a war: I just wanted you to let me in… to my driveway. And now that I’ve started quoting Miley Cyrus, I think it’s time to bring this post to an end, don’t you?