I have gone on a blog posting spree. I don’t feel well tonight, I have a killer headache and feel nauseous, plus my shoulders and neck are really tense. Boo fricken hoo, right?
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. We’re going on a picnic with Nathan’s family (minus Simone, of course, as she lives in Reading). Hi Napoleon! He just came in through my window. I bet he sits on my computer chair and goes to sleep in a circle shape.
Tim gets back next Saturday morning at 6:30. Mum is driving me out to the airport so that we can pick him up. I’m going to give him the biggest hug in the history of the world. He’ll be going to Glendalough either today or tomorrow, which is cool because Lauren, Noelle and I went there when we were in Ireland last year. It was freezing! I didn’t wear socks with my boots, because I’m an idiot, and my toes froze, and then the rest of me froze. We visited the monastic settlement, and had lunch by the big lake. I wrote my name in the frost on one of the picnic tables. Ireland is beautiful, one of my favourite places in the world.
I really don’t have that much to write about. The temperature is lovely tonight. J’adore quand il fait froid. I wish that it got cold enough to snow here. Even with the disgusting grey snow and slush that forms on the pathways, and the patches of slippery, refrozen ice, it’s still worth it. There’s still an almost magical quality to snow, for me. I’m sure that those who deal with snow all the time probably get tired of it, but in my mind it’s always pure and soft and cold and white and clean and makes the best sounds when you walk on it. A very satisfying “crnnnch” as the ice compacts beneath the soles of your shoes. And I still haven’t built a snowman! Very disappointing. Or had a real snowball fight for that matter.
Anyway, rather than stay up and have to take a panadol, I’m going to sleep.
Bon nuit!