Where does time go?! I used to blog so often, both since I created this ‘morning pages’ blog and on the old one I had – oftentimes posting more than once a day, but certainly never going more than a couple of days without posting something. Perhaps it’s that I have a lot less Me Time. Oh, it’s not a problem! Trust me. Sure, I’ve never been a flock animal and I do massively enjoy my own company, peace and quiet, but since my best friend B came on the scene I’ve been so ridiculously happy I wouldn’t change a thing. Almost three years down the line my tummy still does a flip when he walks through the door and I often catch myself just looking at him in awe – at how gorgeous he is, at how I love him so much my heart might explode and at my luck. I was always a chirpy bunny, but I reckon I’m pretty unbearable now.
It’s just that Me Time doesn’t exist really, so I don’t blog even a fraction of what I used to, and as opposed to reading on average a book per week I now probably average one every couple of months. Again though, not a complaint, just an observation and I’m MORE than happy to live in a real fairy tale than read one. Win-win.
So. My big birthday passed and now so has B’s. I hope he loved the day as much as he claimed to, but I think how touched he seemed at the string of video clips of his family and mine on both sides of the world wishing him a happy birthday, singing, reading poems and pointing out waterfalls summed it up. Awesome bunch all of them, we are both very lucky to have families like that. Got a lump in my throat when I could tell B’s lovely little mum got a little choked up and tears spilled over when listening to the poem one of his sisters read out. Laughed at my youngest nephew calling B ‘Scooby Doo’ for some unfathomable reason and my dad’s booming voice – I had to adjust the volume for the whole string of clips: turn my dad down and everyone up! Gotta love him, even in writing he somehow manages to be super loud, caps lock firmly pushed down and letters in bold. My hero.
Suffered the mother of all hangovers at work yesterday as a result. We were home fairly early and in bed by 10pm, and we weren’t drunk. Tipsy at most, I’d say. However, I think it was that we were drinking ALL DAY: Champagne breakfast, then a long walk with Hendrix and a couple of cheeky lunchtime drinks at one of the riverside pubs on the way back, then out at 5pm, cocktails before dinner, a bottle of wine between us with dinner, and then another couple of drinks afterwards before heading home. I didn’t feel drunk at all and felt fine going to bed. Yesterday morning though, I felt like I think I would if I’d been out until 4pm (which I haven’t been since ca 1999 – clubbing ain’t my bag) and ended the night with tequila shots. I was convinced I was going to throw up and it wasn’t until the afternoon that I stopped worrying about having to rush to the toilet and also have a plastic bag handy in case it’d come on suddenly. Hah! Thank God the people I work for are the nicest employers EVER and only laughed at me. In all fairness I think I might add The Day After as another day off, because I think I was at 50% capacity yesterday and not all that productive.
Anyhoo. Monkey’s with his dad, so it’s just B and I this weekend. Weather permitting I think we’ll find a hiking trail somewhere, perhaps down the coast. Next week I am totally dreading as B is away at a board meeting in Ireland. Hah! Plenty of Me Time coming up in other words, right? But this is the problem, you see. Something I used to love I now despise because I love B so much it eclipses everything else and I don’t feel right without him around. Not even looking forward to getting a stack of books and just read non-stop. What makes it worse is that Monkey’s not there either and that makes it Really F*cking Sh*t.
Bloody hell, cheer up!! I don’t do pessimism and gloom so going to put my smile back on and look forward to another weekend with the glorious B.