I've been having a pretty good couple of days. I haven't broke anything or anyone. I've been nearly teetotal, in that my grey goose is now down to it's last shot and I'm hoarding it. I miss those days when I could walk into Sainsbury's or Tesco and anonymously purchase vodka. In West Africa, it isn't culturally appropriate for a girl to be buying alcohol by her lonesome (and I don't have the excuse of being mixed race or white or brown or yellow). Hence, I've been putting off replenishing my stock. Sigh, sad I know.
Lately, I have been receiving constant reminders that I am no longer a spring chicken. I have cooed over enough newborns and not so newborns. Some of these kids are turning 2 or 3 years old! People are having 5th year wedding anniversaries left, right and center. My friends make awfully cute kids, it must be said so as much as I yapper on, meh, I love them.
Oh, and have I mentioned that everyone and their grandma is planning my imaginary wedding. I was never one of those girls who dreamed about their wedding day and planned every aspect of it. I do remember drawing the floor plans of my Grecian style home +/- kids. Said house has gradually morphed into an Edwardian/ Victorian town house with a gorgeous library and sun room. Anything with large sash windows... I digress. My response now to the traditional, ' We are waiting for our invitation oh!' is a smile. I previously would retort, 'I'll let you know when I know'.
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