Chapter 29 – in which our heroine listens to a lot of sad music, has a good cry, puts Gloria Gaynor on the CD player, and jolly well gets on with it
No, Delilah, there hasn’t actually been any Gloria Gaynor, surely, for I remember Lars emailed, when I was in a rough spot some three years ago: “Whatever you do, don’t listen to ‘I Will Survive’ – it’s a trap.” And there hasn’t been any moping around to sad music either – just a good, hearty dose of Lily Allen, with a Rilo Kiley cherry to top it off.
When the going gets tough, it appears, the tough get sweaty. Harking back to the coping mechanisms I adopted once upon a time – remember? The rough spot? Some three years ago? – the regimes are back in place: free weights and swimming on alternate days, oh, how I walk around now, in an aura of chlorine.
I spent the weekend with familiar faces, which did everything to make the city cheerier, and last night had Nora over for dinner –
(she saw the Lily Allen CD cover on the kitchen counter and said: “Who are you?” “Excoriate!” I said, “Excoriate!” but you cannot, because the Lily Allen album is good like silver lightning bolts and running in the streets)
– whereupon the chicken-chorizo paella was hot and bubbly and a success enough for three servings each.
Other small successes, none hot and bubbly:
• Not accepting £8.25 as an hourly rate for substantial editorial work. I want this job, but £8.25 is less than what I was being paid a year ago, as a temp around town, for answering phones or filing papers in alphabetical order. Negotiations are continuing. Truly, I am an Astute Businesswoman, and this seems an appropriate place to point out that some years ago I won a plastic typewriter on eBay once for seventy-five cents; the shipping was $12.95.
• Thinking about what else I want to do with myself, and realising that the idea of me as a travel writer seems both achievable and happy-making. The happy-making part is clear; the achievable part will need some work. Anyone know someone on the lookout for a girl with her iBook and her passport at the ready?
• Calling my electricity company and switching – you can do it too! It’s fun and it’s easy! – to the green tariff.
In other news, the boy arrives on the Eurostar in fifty-four minutes with the rest of his clothes and a proper stereo system, and a one-person household doubles in population. There is a bag of crumpets on the kitchen counter, because he likes crumpets.
No, Delilah, there hasn’t actually been any Gloria Gaynor, surely, for I remember Lars emailed, when I was in a rough spot some three years ago: “Whatever you do, don’t listen to ‘I Will Survive’ – it’s a trap.” And there hasn’t been any moping around to sad music either – just a good, hearty dose of Lily Allen, with a Rilo Kiley cherry to top it off.
When the going gets tough, it appears, the tough get sweaty. Harking back to the coping mechanisms I adopted once upon a time – remember? The rough spot? Some three years ago? – the regimes are back in place: free weights and swimming on alternate days, oh, how I walk around now, in an aura of chlorine.
I spent the weekend with familiar faces, which did everything to make the city cheerier, and last night had Nora over for dinner –
(she saw the Lily Allen CD cover on the kitchen counter and said: “Who are you?” “Excoriate!” I said, “Excoriate!” but you cannot, because the Lily Allen album is good like silver lightning bolts and running in the streets)
– whereupon the chicken-chorizo paella was hot and bubbly and a success enough for three servings each.
Other small successes, none hot and bubbly:
• Not accepting £8.25 as an hourly rate for substantial editorial work. I want this job, but £8.25 is less than what I was being paid a year ago, as a temp around town, for answering phones or filing papers in alphabetical order. Negotiations are continuing. Truly, I am an Astute Businesswoman, and this seems an appropriate place to point out that some years ago I won a plastic typewriter on eBay once for seventy-five cents; the shipping was $12.95.
• Thinking about what else I want to do with myself, and realising that the idea of me as a travel writer seems both achievable and happy-making. The happy-making part is clear; the achievable part will need some work. Anyone know someone on the lookout for a girl with her iBook and her passport at the ready?
• Calling my electricity company and switching – you can do it too! It’s fun and it’s easy! – to the green tariff.
In other news, the boy arrives on the Eurostar in fifty-four minutes with the rest of his clothes and a proper stereo system, and a one-person household doubles in population. There is a bag of crumpets on the kitchen counter, because he likes crumpets.
posted by stellou at 12:31 PM
3 Comments:
yay to love, yay to crumpets, and always a yay to travel writing, surtout le tien qui est marrant.
why are you sad, my little chickpea? you are on your way to being carbon neutral!
cecio > Ya! Yay to many things, and today I think we will take a walk, which is also a reason for yay. Unless it is a long walk off a short pier, which is less a reason for yay, but we are not, hence it will be OK.
CC my CC > Aiyah, things lah things, and confusion, and not knowing how to fight way out of clouds. The birds had eaten all the chickpeas I'd scattered to find my way! Nehmind', things are on the up and up, I am going to take a hot shower, and then maybe I entice nán rén to the kitchen department of Selfridges!
Post a Comment
<< Home