Highly Strung

You can generally tell that work, (or rather people at work) are making you frustrated when you start responding to emails verbally in the manner of a crazy person. ie; remonstrating with the email on your screen, swearing at it and making exasperated noises in its general direction. However it’s surely better than verbally expressing these things to the sender of the email.

I knew when I put this shirt on this morning it was too low cut for work – the designer appears to have missed the buttonhole located at just above boob level from the design. A colleague has just confirmed this thought for me by muttering something about low cutness then studiously holding my gaze. I asked hm if he was trying very hard not to look down and he agreed that he was, which is so not like him. It really must be way too much if a perv like him doesn’t take a proper look and make fun of me.

Because I am a lazy ho – who is not at all dedicated to my chosen occupation I am leaving the office very shortly. If I don’t leave soon, I fear I may be physically unable to get on my bike this evening. And although I have two post it notes of things I need to do this evening, the most pressing one I can think of is – have early night. I love sleeping.

Something about today has made me supremely irritated – I’m not sure what it is. I had a very pleasant ride in despite the huge gusts of wind and then a nice coffee with the boyf. So why then did I find myself being wound up by small inconsequential things? Just to cap it off I’m now just really irritated and frustrated by my own stupid mood. I feel like I’m having difficulty making myself understood and that it’s going to continue to be the case all day. I guess I just need to untie the knots I’ve tied myself into, but it’s easier said than done.

Having tried out the chocolate covered custard creams on 4 independent testers (ie people who wandered into the work kitchen while i was in there), they seem to be a hit! Although people did seem somewhat surprised at my attention to detail and the fact that I had bothered at all.

In other news a colleague bought be some Lindor chocolates while in Boots today – which was a- very thoughtful and b – very timely as I am suffering from period pain today. (everybody knows chocolate alleviates the symptoms).

This weekend I finally had a chance to put together a wee idea the Boyf and I dreamt up some time ago.
Ladies and Gentleman: I give you – a custard cream covered in milk chocolate… genius I think you’ll agree.

Not only have I leapt on the bandwagon which is skinny jeans (just as Kate Moss has started wearing high waisted wide leg jeans), but I have also belatedly also joined the phenomenon which is Converse trainer collecting – albeit unintentionally.

Covent Garden yesterday: I hunt for trainers to go with said skinny jeans. I buy crazy boxing boot style converse trainers because they are on sale. Half an hour later I enter Shelleys sale and spot a pretty pair of pink converse for half the price. Instead of cutting my losses and walking away, I buy them, regretting the earlier purchase. 10 minutes later I walk past another shoe shop and see a third pair I fancy for £8 – I do not buy them – clearly that would be ridiculous.

Like, I know I punctuate my speech with like, a lot, like, but, like, I’m nowhere near as bad at yer classic American teen like. As witnessed today in the American express office, where a spotty American teenager and entourage was cashing $4,500 worth of travellers cheques into pounds. One can but hope he was then headed straight to either a bank or a Unversity’s registry office to pay fees. No doubt the reality is he was off to hide it under his dorm room’s mattress, to be eked out over the course of the year on his nightly quota of pizza and a solitary bottle of Bud light – like.

….my brain…this morning after I triple locked the internal door to my flat, I pulled the shared external door towards me in order to secure it shut. For some reason it wouldn’t catch. On investigation I find that the snib thing has it snibbed in the inward position. ie not locked. Having had a wee think about that this afternoon I have figured out what must have happened when I got in last night was that the lock must have been stuck in the unlocked position when I shut the door and oput the snib into what I thought was the locked shut position. Whoops. Still, at least now I know to check it carefully to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

I awake to the sound of my alarm with mixed feelings, part of me wants to leap up and face the day, the other part of me (the part that wins), wants to press snooze, not once, but three times. I finally switch it off altogether and sleep until 7.30. I still manage to get out the door for 8am and into town for 8.40. I bypass Pret and their breakfast baguette and purchase a tall latte. I need the familiarity of the habit as well as the psychological kick coffee provides, my nervous stomach can’t handle the thought of food though.

Work presents me with a couple of urgent actions, which I struggle to pull together, they’ll be done by lunchtime. I’ll visit the gym safe in the knowledge that I’ve managed to do what is required of me this morning. Auto pilot will be switched on for the afternoon as I drift to 5.30.