Grump grump grump. It feels like it ought to be Friday. This has been an incredibly long and slow week, somehow. And today it is grey outside, which never helps. If it rains while I’m at work, that’s ok. I enjoy that, particularly when there is torrential downpour and/or thunder involved. But this flat grey blahness is a different matter. A different matter that breeds discontent.
IN MY SOUL.
I’ve not yet eaten breakfast, and when I do, it is going to be yogurt. Not exactly what I’m craving, but I suppose it’ll do. As I explained to Ro a little while ago in my first-ever gmail chat, what I’d really like for breakfast is a heaping helping of “going home”, followed by a plate of “going back to bed”. If I could follow that up later with a course of “hanging out with the boyfriend” (and maybe some bacon and eggs . . . ooh! and rye toast.), then life would be sweet indeed. I know from good breakfasts.
To strike a more cheerful note- I make excellent quesadillas, the poinsettias that have been on my desk since December are still looking good, Sharif’s semester stresses are pretty much done, I didn’t get sick, I got my “Nintendo DS Brain Age” down to 20, I’m going to make chicken enchiladas for Mother’s Day, there’s practically no one here to notice that I’m updating my journal instead of working, and I think I’m going to enter my office’s baking competition next month. I just need to remember what I’m good at baking.