Tuesday, September 15, 2009
So after weeks of running on adrenaline, I woke up this morning, realised there were another four sleeps standing between me and a weekend newspaper and just. felt. spent. No more oomph.
Curly Pops to the rescue. And the postie. My postie has a French accent (we like those) and generally impeccable timing.* A while ago, I sent Ms Pops a tablecloth I found with her name on it. In return she donned a little super hero get-up and saved my today. With the arrival of her surprise package, she hit the magic rewind button and kicked me out the RIGHT side of the bed. Not only that, she predicted that I would be wearing precisely the colour of the detail in my new brooch, which you won’t be able to see in this photo, because I am wearing precisely the colour of the detail in my new brooch. Thank you, Cam. My family thank you too.
* Except for the once when I was just back from the gym and an alarming shade of tomato. I know he wanted to ask me in his French accent if I was ok,** (everyone does) but didn’t really want to take things further if I wasn’t.
** I was ok, if you discount the fact that I’m still miffed at being born with that irritating Turn Red And Look Undignified exercising gene.