This picture amuses me. Don't you love that 8o's dress? I wore it for a dare because when the dh says, I bet you can't... of course I had to. And the bonus being it still fitted. But the hound's face wasn't because of the bright yellow stripes. He was fascinated by a burning joss stick. But the other factor which makes me smile is the matching hair-do. Apparently we grow to look like our dogs. I guess I don't mind too much being compared to a leggy, brindled wolfhound. Now the hair is dyed, so we don't match at the moment, but that could change. I vacillate between the OMFG I look old with grey hair, to loving it as a mark of experience. And sometimes I am just sheer lazy. I'd rather spend my time doing other things than wandering around the house with some foul-smelling concoction dripping down my nose. I've always had this dread that someone would knock on the door and then comes the great question - do I answer it with hair dye dripping or ignore it. I mean, how important might it be? Or did I in a fog of writing forget I'd made a coffee date with a friend?
Sometimes us writers are just plain crazy. You get wrapped up in a story and forget lots of things. Like yesterday I almost forgot the carpet cleaning person was coming. Until they rang and said I'll be there at 3.30. *Glances around house and remembers she should have moved countless sundry articles*. So I rapidly moved countless sundry articles wherever they weren't going to clean, wrenching a hand as I did so - damned horse paraphernalia - and now my house has sweet smelling carpet and two very tidy rooms and several OMG where did all this come from type rooms.
DH said, don't put it back until I come home, you'll hurt your back. Trouble is, I don't want to put it back because it looks - gosh - tidy.
I think I might just write and 'think' about putting it back....



04/23/2013 12:53pm

I love that photo! xxxxx


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