My Life is Too Glamourous
After writing the previous post I realized that perhaps I'm becoming a creature of habit and decided to put my routine under the microscope:
A day in the life:
Ate 2 slices of cinnamon raisin toast and washed it down with some leftover microwaved coffee (as I do every single morning).
Read the usual newspapers online, local,national,international (again a part of my daily routine).
Checked out favourite blogs (yes, I do this every day as well).
Cleaned the kitchen (something I do most days).
Blogged a bit.
Did some laundry, washed floors.
Blogged some more.
Dusted.
Ate a fried egg sandwich.
Blogged some more.
Downloaded some music.
Said "enough is enough"and turned off the computer.
Actually left the house and did some grocery shopping.
Blogged some more.
Made myself an espresso with a healthy shot of rum in it.
Made dinner.
Read a bit more of the tedious novel "I Am Charlotte Simmons".
Truth is I'm a creature of habit (obsessive-compulsive is more like it).
Yesterday, as we do most Saturdays, Mr. Nag and I went to the Book Depot. I was slightly irritated that our usual parking spot (under a tree, not that it matters in February, but it does provide a little shade in summer) was taken. This irritation, I sense, is a sign that I'm in a bit of a rut. I was likewise irritated by those who insisted on pushing their shopping carts through the damaged book aisles (where I make most of my purchases), effectively preventing me from circumnavigating the aisles in order and forcing me to skip the cart-infested aisles and return to them later (an insult to the natural order of things). I know I'm presenting myself as Jack Nicholson in "As Good As It Gets" but, honestly, I'm not that bad - they are, all of them.
We followed up our shopping excursion, as always, with lunch at Fortis, a local greasy spoon. "Your usual?" the waitress asked. That would be a cheese omelet for Mr. Nag, brown toast, and a toasted clubhouse with fries and coleslaw for me. Two teas. Is that pathetic or what?
Have I spent too much time at The Hotel Le Rut? I prefer to think that I've honed my routine to an art and I'm comfortable with it. Yeah, that's the ticket.
A day in the life:
Ate 2 slices of cinnamon raisin toast and washed it down with some leftover microwaved coffee (as I do every single morning).
Read the usual newspapers online, local,national,international (again a part of my daily routine).
Checked out favourite blogs (yes, I do this every day as well).
Cleaned the kitchen (something I do most days).
Blogged a bit.
Did some laundry, washed floors.
Blogged some more.
Dusted.
Ate a fried egg sandwich.
Blogged some more.
Downloaded some music.
Said "enough is enough"and turned off the computer.
Actually left the house and did some grocery shopping.
Blogged some more.
Made myself an espresso with a healthy shot of rum in it.
Made dinner.
Read a bit more of the tedious novel "I Am Charlotte Simmons".
Truth is I'm a creature of habit (obsessive-compulsive is more like it).
Yesterday, as we do most Saturdays, Mr. Nag and I went to the Book Depot. I was slightly irritated that our usual parking spot (under a tree, not that it matters in February, but it does provide a little shade in summer) was taken. This irritation, I sense, is a sign that I'm in a bit of a rut. I was likewise irritated by those who insisted on pushing their shopping carts through the damaged book aisles (where I make most of my purchases), effectively preventing me from circumnavigating the aisles in order and forcing me to skip the cart-infested aisles and return to them later (an insult to the natural order of things). I know I'm presenting myself as Jack Nicholson in "As Good As It Gets" but, honestly, I'm not that bad - they are, all of them.
We followed up our shopping excursion, as always, with lunch at Fortis, a local greasy spoon. "Your usual?" the waitress asked. That would be a cheese omelet for Mr. Nag, brown toast, and a toasted clubhouse with fries and coleslaw for me. Two teas. Is that pathetic or what?
Have I spent too much time at The Hotel Le Rut? I prefer to think that I've honed my routine to an art and I'm comfortable with it. Yeah, that's the ticket.
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