Good morning. I have just realised that being the doting mum that I was yesterday night brings with it responsibilities. Yes it's just half past nine and I'm up and fully awake. Brigitte's here and that's a responsibility because my other half decided to lock the house with the keys inside the lock. Henceforth (I so love this word) Brigitte could not get into the house unobtrusively with myself still wrapped up in my cosy world. So I had a responsibility, that is to kick myself out of bed, travel in descending mode and open the door. So now after two coffees I'm more than awake. But I'm putting off going into the outside world because everybody is saying how cold it is; face book is full of people saying so. As for myself, I cannot comment because I don't yet know.
I am thinking to myself. These holidays are somehow strange. Perhaps it's the cold or something else, but I'm reluctant to venture outside if it's not for shopping. I'm not very good at parties, I have to work on this come New Year. I suck at socialising, all the more so if it's socialising with new people. Thank heavens for my long hair, I can hide behind it. And then when I'm comfortable enough I can make an appearance by putting my hair back. It's like a hide and seek thing. As if hair or no hair would hide me anyway, but that's how it feels. I guess I'm regressing into toddler mode, the one when a toddler thinks that hiding his face is also hiding himself. My oh my I seem to be getting younger then. Next will be baby words, but I'll never cry for milk, I hate it anyhow. I hated it always. It's not fair on us, the ones who hate milk, to be force-fed that white liquid since day one. Of course I'd throw it up again and again, because it was the only sign I could give my mum not to do it anymore. She never picked up on it though, and so the throwing up never ceased, and there she was being so anxious that I wouldn't grow up like other kids. Mum, hello? I've grown up all right, without the milk. If only I could have somehow told her that there is just one place where I like milk, and that is in dairy milk chocolate. Nowhere else. It's been this way for 35+ years and my guess is it won't change anytime soon, because old habits are too hard to die. And somehow I am sifting through the habits and thinking there isn't one habit which could be deemed as good. Because all habits owned by me are in overdrive. It's best that I stay away, at least from the chocolate.
Anyway time for the good housewife in me to start running errands. I wonder why they say running. It's not as if errands wear a Nike pair of shoes, a tracksuit and start competing for the marathon. Well, so long.
I am thinking to myself. These holidays are somehow strange. Perhaps it's the cold or something else, but I'm reluctant to venture outside if it's not for shopping. I'm not very good at parties, I have to work on this come New Year. I suck at socialising, all the more so if it's socialising with new people. Thank heavens for my long hair, I can hide behind it. And then when I'm comfortable enough I can make an appearance by putting my hair back. It's like a hide and seek thing. As if hair or no hair would hide me anyway, but that's how it feels. I guess I'm regressing into toddler mode, the one when a toddler thinks that hiding his face is also hiding himself. My oh my I seem to be getting younger then. Next will be baby words, but I'll never cry for milk, I hate it anyhow. I hated it always. It's not fair on us, the ones who hate milk, to be force-fed that white liquid since day one. Of course I'd throw it up again and again, because it was the only sign I could give my mum not to do it anymore. She never picked up on it though, and so the throwing up never ceased, and there she was being so anxious that I wouldn't grow up like other kids. Mum, hello? I've grown up all right, without the milk. If only I could have somehow told her that there is just one place where I like milk, and that is in dairy milk chocolate. Nowhere else. It's been this way for 35+ years and my guess is it won't change anytime soon, because old habits are too hard to die. And somehow I am sifting through the habits and thinking there isn't one habit which could be deemed as good. Because all habits owned by me are in overdrive. It's best that I stay away, at least from the chocolate.
Anyway time for the good housewife in me to start running errands. I wonder why they say running. It's not as if errands wear a Nike pair of shoes, a tracksuit and start competing for the marathon. Well, so long.
