Un Hombre Y Un Mujer – A Man & A Woman.
It reminds me of Ridge Forrester though.
That’s not good. Is it.
But one must always look at stuff with the glass half full: The song also reminds me of Tuscan balconies.
In real Tuscany.
Not in Fourways.
However.
There’s a crackle in the air.
My strawberry cosmo tastes as good as the glass. Not that I was licking my glass, it just looked all frosty and had nice curves.
I dropped R17k on flights to Amsterdam and Berlin.
My boots really are made for walking. In a drive to get us physically active, my company has handed out pedometers. Gadgets you strap to your jean pant that tell you how many steps you’ve taken.
Fuck yes.
From general coffee machine loitering, random desk spasms, a trip to get ‘real coffee’ with Whale at the other canteen, I average about 4 500 steps a day. They want us to do 10 000.
That’s quite a jump.
Needless to say I have a bounce in my step.
There’s a crackle in the air.
And my hair feels good.
Good hair is something I never take for granted.
Apparently there are ‘chilled’ Germans at the visa depository.
If that’s true, how pleasantly surprising.
Relearning the Moonlight Sonata is proving taxing and time-consuming.
But deeply satisfying. And if I close my eyes, as I whisk - whisk - my hands across the ivories, it can be a grand piano with candle holders.
I have a muffin tray in my cupboard. Which I apparently own. When last did I make muffins? Must’ve been before I went through that knitting-everyone-scarves stage.
Reading my star sign is something I no longer do. Virgo’s always tend to get a mound of crap thrown at them in the cosmic world, while other stars seem to get all the good deals. Fuck that and screw you Virgo for being so goal-defying. You piss me off. I’m not reading you anymore.
That cosmo really was amazing.
Rocket's not a bad restaurant if you get seated on the deck.
But if I hear one more Phil Collins song I’m going to lose my rag.
Luckily I’ve moved on to the more palatable Notorious B.I.G and weird Spanish music from the 50s.
So shampoo my carpet and call me Deloris, may the crackle continue.
