Normally, I write my posts from work (which is now a thing of the past), from my bed (when I’m sleeeeeepy), or at my favorite spot – my little antique fold-top desk in the northwest corner of my bedroom. It’s tucked into the wall next to the enormous windows, and there’s almost always a bevy of sunbeams streaming through the sheers. That added to the passersby, the quirky shopfronts, and the only tree in the entire street that sports a long strand of white Christmas lights year round? Make me very, very happy.
Tonight, though, I’m planted in a chair two feet from my desk . . . directly in front of the window fan.
Y’all, I’m not sure if it’s the heat, or exhaustion, or I ate something I shouldn’t, but I had a roooooough day today – feeling nauseated and head-achey in turn. I’m trying to dose myself with as much cool air as possible and plenty of liquids. (I’m gulping down a G2 Gatorade as we speak.)
All this said, my crazy-work week is slowing down just a tad (though nothing gets really normal til next Wednesday, goodness me). And this weather-insanity is supposed to break by tomorrow. (Is it terrible that I’m excited? Only five months ago, we were buried in snow in the worst storm since 1967. I love you so much, Chicago, but I hear San Diego pretty much varies from 4os to 80s – is this going to be like breaking up with the bi-polar, alcoholic bartender in order to date the guy with the regular 9-to-5 and a balanced checkbook?) (I mean . . . I still love a good ‘get in at four am’ night. Rarely.)
Here’s what I wore for the heatwave (that nearly made me puke all day):
Why yes, I wore this skirt again (only this time, as it is meant to fit.) (Umm. Not that it didn’t get a little too fitted over the course of the day, and maybe the top got untucked? I mean, maybe.)
And yes, too, this shirt is in fact the twin of this one; what can I say? Redhead had a “if one is good then two is waaaaaaaaay better” policy* . . . .
And I wouldn’t go as far as to call that a blogger bun? as it doesn’t seem fabulous enough. But I’ll grant myself “ballerina”/”oh god oh god if my hair so much as brushes my neck I will shriek it’s so freaking HOT” status.
*this policy still in effect when it comes to cookies, champagne, and vacation destinations. Also, sometimes, kissing.