262.

Dear diary,

Day 13 – cigarettes, 0. Units of alcohol, 0 also if memory serves. Coffee, lost count.

In light of the above, I’m feeling alright. I’m in a good space, figuratively speaking. Literally speaking I’m in a great space. I am in my bed. The one place I am happiest. I’m wrapped up like a m*ther f*cker. Stars are so fancy aren’t they? So is wearing a scarf in bed.

Being the super organised freak that I am, I booked off a day from work specifically with the intention of venturing to Milton Keynes for the below dress*. A couple of days umming and ahhing meant that my size was sold out on Zara’s website. The stress this brought me.. You cannot possibly comprehend.

Beautiful things are worth putting yourself out for.

Please excuse my gnarly feet. No, I’ve never tried to climb a tree. Yes, with the length of my arms and legs I’d probs be hella good at it. No, I will not attempt this for your entertainment.

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*I have bought this for my sisters wedding next May

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261.

Here is a bit of a face:

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Here’s a bit of my face:

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And here is me in a skirt:

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I’m a little irritable at the moment on account of quitting smoking. Again. I’m also not drinking. Not – ‘never ever,’ but more of a ‘hardly ever’ approach to it all. I am endeavouring to seek moderation in life and embrace it whole heartedly. A pre Christmas health kick, as it were.

So far so good.

Ask me how I’m doing again in a week eh?

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260.

I’m not sure if it’s Saturday or Jupiter. I have consumed a tremendous combination of cold and flu remedies today. Lozenges, powders, sugar coated tablets, syrup and even some sort of particularly unsexy nasal spray which will not only fight the common cold, it will also rid me of any kind of love life for the foreseeable future. Despite the aforementioned drugs jamboree, I still have a voice like someone has turned down my volume button way down when because it is past 8pm and the noise sensitive elderly neighbours are trying to sleep.

Mentally, the above was probably a bit of an assault on the senses. I like words that sound good. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so simple. Come on Sarah! I like biscuits cause they taste nice. No! Sorry – one minute, going go click my neck. When things what are descriptive make pictures in your head. This can go the other way, mind. Some things you cannot unhear, yee canne unsee. It burns, it burns.

I’m blathering, I know – sorry. I’m finding this all rather therapeutic. I was going to plop some pictures in here but sometimes words are good enough. And honesty, I look frightful. My eye bags are so big they’re carrying their stuff in more bags. My face is a bag. My life is a bag.

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259.

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I wouldn’t say it’s a case of being a closed book. A difficult read, yes. So most won’t bother, some will try and then give up – with not a good word to say. The rest – being that in the minority – will persevere and see their way right through to the end.

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258.

I’ve been so busy busy. So much so that it warrants the repetition.

Blogging has been put on the back burner. I’m not entirely sure what that phrase entails but I know it is appropriate given the circumstances.

I’ve kind of thrown my head, heart and soul into my new job so drawing and doodling has taken the back seat. That’s okay though, yeah?

Good I am so glad that you agree.

I noticed the other day that my followers have now surpassed the 2,500 mark. So ‘hello!’ to any newbies and good old ‘how the hell have you been doing?’ to the longer serving of you. I know it looks like numbers but you all equate to individuals so I do feel very much honoured and privileged. Am I getting too mushy?

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I haven’t felt the inclination to draw myself in a while. You probably don’t even recall what I look like anymore so I figure a photo always helps.

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257.

Change is good. New things are good. Good is good. Good, good, good. Trying to avoid repeating myself by endlessly reusing the same word is good. No, I didn’t mean to say ‘good’. It’s bad. Y’know what I mean? Good. Right about now a thesaurus would be..of benefit.

So yeah, good.

I’m still here. You’re still there. Where ever ‘there’ is. Someone emailed me the other day to query my motivations for writing this blog. I dunno man. It’s always there for me when I need it. And when I don’t, it sits there, patiently on the world wide web, waiting for me with open arms. “Come back here now little Sarah, come tell ol’ Aunty WordPress your troubles and woes”, she whispers via a steady stream of emails.

I don’t have a great deal to report, however. I’m all happy. I’m enjoying my job. I’m working things through with the boy and things are on the up. I’m having a real good hair day if I do say so myself. Something exciting within the exact perimeters of my life – I tried a Walnut Whip for the first time ever. Unremarkable news, you might think. Not worth writing home about, you might say. Go tell someone who gives a fuck, the more hostile of you may mumble. Well that’s where you would be wrong as this sparked a lengthy text conversation with a good friend of mine.

Just – go do something new. Try something different. Live life on the edge, even if you’re in a very comfortable place, very unlikely to fall off. You can peer over the edge in your own leisure but the chance of you falling is comparable to the likelihood of lightening strikes and lottery wins.

I’ve really cut back drinking, can you tell…?

Good.

:)

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256.

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