Well, here we are: almost at the close of Tuesday, January 17. A rather uneventful day.
Today I had a hunch Kate Moss is pregnant – lame, tame dinner celebrations to ring in her 38th – ate far too little at lunch thanks to a soggy salad and said here-here to a Clementine Ford piece on why it’s actually a fabulous thing, being a girl. I also decided the entire Kris/Kim Wedding Saga was a complete hoax, sold to her on dollah-dollah bills and content and to him on 15 minutes of fame against the fear of a fledgling b-ball career. I managed a run, which also proved a rather futile pursuit, and have now put two loads of washing through the machine, which also proved a rather futile pursuit.
I’ve been wearing my glasses chain of late and have a sneaking suspicion I will again jump a trend and precede the emergence of glasses jewellery, expected summer 2012.
I’m contemplating homes and rooms and social expectancies: after fourish years living together, can I jump The Good Ship Bakker and live without the GL, in a share house with friends?