I'm back in cyberspace again, one week, a new modem, about a hundred trips to Dick Smith, endless expensive cords which were never the right one the first time, later.
In the interim, I turned 40. It was a great night. I only decided to do a party once I had a weather forecast a few days beforehand, which did rather knock out inviting anyone who didn't live down the road. I cleaned the laundry (wash house in my world) to such a shining, usable, uncluttered state that I considered holding the entire bash beside the tumble drier. As it was, Favourite Handyman lit the brazier and kept us toasty warm outside until the wee hours of the next morning.
I've almost finished my floral curtain colette crepe dress. I really like it, though quite where I should wear it is unclear and even less clear is what possessed me to hanker after such an item. It is quite flattering, apart from the bit where the pattern on the bodice is off kilter slightly and it gives the effect that one boob is sliding down to the floor while the other one is just that dignified bit raised above my waist. That feature is not so perfect. On the pedantic learning to sew front, I think I have improved the fit on the first attempt. I will post a photo, but not one where I haven't washed my hair for days, which is the only possibility since I attached the skirt to the bodice yesterday.
I read about a zillion books while there was no screen to distract me. None of them were amazing enough to recommend highly except perhaps Abide with Me by Elizabeth Strout (who wrote Olive Kitteridge) which is an interesting exploration of the way a small community will happily pick apart a weak member, like in this case the bereaved young minister, but be lost and shaken up to support him when he gives up, breaks down.
In between novels which were only okay (when I ration my reading time, then I only continue with really good ones for the most part), I read books about bodies and clothes and food. Which of course bears no relationship to turning forty. I told myself that for a while and then gave in to the obvious connection. Trinny And Susannah: what you wear can change your life was okay. The most life changing likelihood of a piece of clothing seems to me to be if you trip over it and break a bone, but T & S were more optimistic than that. It was annoying that they talked about clothing in terms of being attractive for someone else (partner, husband, prospective partner/husband) but I guess it was that kind of book. I spent two nights reading a book about living a low carb lifestyle. I munched bread as I read on both occasions. Last night I read about good bugs and probiotics after three glasses of wine which also turned out not to be good brownie behaviour. It seems I prefer to think on nutrition rather than act on it.
I tried to balance out a general desire to spend money with some decluttering after reading Trinny and Susannah. I took 1 top, 2 dresses, 1 pair of trousers and a skirt to the Sallies. The two dresses I took because I was so sick of wearing them that I wanted to stop myself from being able to. I came home from the same trip to town with two pairs of leggings and some pjs which turned out not to fit. Never mind what T and S say, my new rule for clothing success is to try everything, even jammies, on in the shop.
Global Fabrics send samples, y'know, and then you can order over the telephone. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but I have placed an order in the scientific interests of finding out.
I cleaned today. I cleaned our bedroom. There can be only one answer to such oddities, that I should be doing something else. I suppose so, I always should be doing something else. Anyways, tonight I shall sleep in a luxurious lack of dust, with fresh sheets and plumped pillows and unencumbered by newspapers dating back three months beside my bed.