Well didn't get on the fucking bike.
But had a valid reason.
My momentary PMS yesterday has strangely disappeared.
That new SAA advert – the one with the caricatures dressed up as PE, JHB, CT, EL, etc etc. Well. It's phenomenal, ten out of ten. 747 saw it for the first time last night and was screaming, “Never! Never!” at the telly, tears of mirth running down his face.
I got flowers!
But perhaps the most delightful aspect of yesterday was this: My maid wrote me a note, “Will come back to do ironing tomorrow. Because of the Eskom. Eish
How fucken fabulous is that? Hell I love Pretty. The Eskom? Like it's this thing, this virus or deformed and alienic tokoloshe that has delivered it's shit luck onto our household plugpoints. It's just Eskom-sans-The. It's a real-life, tangible inconvenience. From now on it's The Eskom or bust.
And I didn't get on the bike, but I painted my nails electric pink and did like, pleasurable, stuff.