The girl never sleeps alone. The girl might, if she's mighty pissed with the felines. But usually there's a cat or three in bed with her. Ah the joys of having a huge bed to oneself--only to have cat butts thrust in ones face, and cats occupying ones pillow EVERY.SINGLE.NIGHT. And of course their offended, guilt-inducing faces when one tries to take back enough of the usurped sheet to cover ones freezing extremities.
Oh well, the girl doesn't really mind, and butt-smell can really get you off the bed in the morning. It is kind of nice to listen to the patter of rain outside while spooning a warm furry purr machine and reading something nice. Admittedly it's less nice when the aforementioned p. machine tries to lick ones face with tongue akin to slightly moistened sandpaper.
But the ghost of the girl past (yes, even recent past) would have looked at the girl in askance, and calculated derision--she has become a homebody. Yeeesh! The girl cringes at that epithet. No she doesn't go out (much), finds dates tedious, and that music concerts tend to go on till too late and involve too much standing around. If one had known the girl long enough, one might find it a cause of concern. For after all, did the girl not lock herself up for days when she was depressed?
The girl doesn't know when she has been less un-depressed than this. The girl often cooks for herself. Sometimes the girl makes biryani, just for herself (and one of the three felines does like biryani-chicken though normally refuses to eat anything on their own but grass). The girl likes orchids and takes great pleasure in seeing chillis fruit. And an even greater pleasure when rambunctious pigeon fights over birdseeds result in the odd moong sapling taking hold here and there. The butterfly pea vine reminds the girl of luxurious tresses of mythical beautiful (and boring) women.
The girl cannot deny the aches and ague that accompany aging (but mostly bad posture) plague her often, but it's nothing that the Thai masseuses cannot beat the hell out of (thereby proving the truth in the ancient adage: extreme pain will take ones mind truly off the everyday pain).
The girl, with her characteristic negativity, tries to make successful #adulting all about eating inedible healthy things and going for a brisk morning run and then beats herself up for doing neither. But the girl secretly admits that nothing has felt as good--in forever--as starting the morning with kurkure and taking a post-breakfast nap with cats or going to bed early on a work night with a good book (instead of a bad buoy and a late night). The girl secretly raises one of the delicious cocktails at the local doggy bar to herself while crossing her toes in order not to jinx it.
Oh well, the girl doesn't really mind, and butt-smell can really get you off the bed in the morning. It is kind of nice to listen to the patter of rain outside while spooning a warm furry purr machine and reading something nice. Admittedly it's less nice when the aforementioned p. machine tries to lick ones face with tongue akin to slightly moistened sandpaper.
But the ghost of the girl past (yes, even recent past) would have looked at the girl in askance, and calculated derision--she has become a homebody. Yeeesh! The girl cringes at that epithet. No she doesn't go out (much), finds dates tedious, and that music concerts tend to go on till too late and involve too much standing around. If one had known the girl long enough, one might find it a cause of concern. For after all, did the girl not lock herself up for days when she was depressed?
The girl doesn't know when she has been less un-depressed than this. The girl often cooks for herself. Sometimes the girl makes biryani, just for herself (and one of the three felines does like biryani-chicken though normally refuses to eat anything on their own but grass). The girl likes orchids and takes great pleasure in seeing chillis fruit. And an even greater pleasure when rambunctious pigeon fights over birdseeds result in the odd moong sapling taking hold here and there. The butterfly pea vine reminds the girl of luxurious tresses of mythical beautiful (and boring) women.
The girl cannot deny the aches and ague that accompany aging (but mostly bad posture) plague her often, but it's nothing that the Thai masseuses cannot beat the hell out of (thereby proving the truth in the ancient adage: extreme pain will take ones mind truly off the everyday pain).
The girl, with her characteristic negativity, tries to make successful #adulting all about eating inedible healthy things and going for a brisk morning run and then beats herself up for doing neither. But the girl secretly admits that nothing has felt as good--in forever--as starting the morning with kurkure and taking a post-breakfast nap with cats or going to bed early on a work night with a good book (instead of a bad buoy and a late night). The girl secretly raises one of the delicious cocktails at the local doggy bar to herself while crossing her toes in order not to jinx it.
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