A funny thing happened to me on the way into work today.
F*ck. I had just walked the length of our main street in only my black stockings.
If only I had been wearing the lacey stay-ups.
My life's normally not like this. Normally it's ordinary: I wake up, eat my rice porridge, work, surf the internet, clock out and walk home. Too ordinary: I want to shake myself out of this existence. I've been contemplating this blog for an age, while debating with myself about its content. Will it be a food blog? Will it be a lifestyle blog? Will it be a make-me-a-crapload-of-money-so-I-can-work-in-my-dressing-down blog? I've decided to just let it be. I'll write. And hopefully, someone out there will read.
I was looking pretty good. A silk velvet dress, a crisp white shirt underneath, black leather belt around my hips, black coat. And black stockings (a key point: remember that). It was a sunny, crisp winter's morning as I left the house with the Captain to do our daily walk in to work. We were walking and chatting (okay, we were bickering in that tight-voice-under-your-breath way that you do in public) over the bridge from the fancy suburb in which we live and down into the main street of our big city. Half an hour later, I kissed the Captain goodbye halfway down the main street and continued on down to my office. Then, while waiting to cross a very large and very public antipodean Shibuya-style crossing, I noticed a chill around my legs. Hmmm. I looked down.
My goddamn funkster deluxe dress had ridden up to my hips while walking and was hidden under my coat.
My goddamn funkster deluxe dress had ridden up to my hips while walking and was hidden under my coat.
F*ck. I had just walked the length of our main street in only my black stockings.
If only I had been wearing the lacey stay-ups.
My life's normally not like this. Normally it's ordinary: I wake up, eat my rice porridge, work, surf the internet, clock out and walk home. Too ordinary: I want to shake myself out of this existence. I've been contemplating this blog for an age, while debating with myself about its content. Will it be a food blog? Will it be a lifestyle blog? Will it be a make-me-a-crapload-of-money-so-I-can-work-in-my-dressing-down blog? I've decided to just let it be. I'll write. And hopefully, someone out there will read.
Flotsam: the odds and ends of my mind. Oh yeah, it could be a rough ride... or not. I really hope that I haven't raised your expectations with my story of the day as it won't always be like this. In fact, it will very rarely be like this. However, it's a bit of a momentous time of my life right now and spilling it all into the depths of the world wide web may help me to process all of this. Because everyone blogs, right?
Just to show you how ordinary my life is, I must dash: the dishes call.
Always wear the black lace stay-ups, mes amis.
HR xx
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