I've managed to wake up early everyday for a solid two weeks, on some of those days I've fallen asleep against my will around noon with a TV show playing or a book still open in my hands, but its starting to feel something like progress. I'm so glad I get to walk to and from work in the light these days, and I can't believe my job actually consists of playing boardgames and being beaten at football by a five year old in a dinosaur costume. I'm eating so many weetabix, but I still haven't cured my life long aversion to milk opened more than a day ago. I drink my tea from a fine china cup, and I'm completely convinced it tastes better that way. I bought a new skirt because I'm trying not to wear the ill fitting same jeans everyday. My whole life I wondered what age I would finally start wearing makeup more than not. 24. Apparently.
I got to see the sea the other day. I never thought I would miss it so much. I collected pretty shells and when I got home, washed them and laid them all out in neat rows. I think I'll pack away my big coat soon. My dad bought me a harmonica in a gift shop two months ago and I've only played it once. I can't really read music anymore.
I've paid for a year's subscription to a private member's library for somewhere to go to read and write. It's so lovely and old inside but I worry paying to go to a library makes me sound like a tory. I have a whole set of public library cards too. I promise.
My bedroom never feels tidy on account of all the stuff I keep in it. I can't get rid of anything more because everything left is too nice. A shopping addict cursed with knowing her own (expansive) taste. That's my downfall. I've started cutting my own hair. Again. Dad knows (in fact, he bought me the offending scissors) but it has to be kept a secret from Mum. Jane Birkin's hair was always cut by a friend with the kitchen scissors. I carry around an almanac in my work bag to feel closer to the land around me. I read it each month and learn about the stars. But each month I forget to plant the chillies or bake the seasonal pie. Whatever it's telling me to do.
I wish I liked cooking. I wish my duvet would stay put in its cover. I wish the half awake version of me knew how to turn off that awful alarm. It's the button at the back. I'm glad that I like walking. And reading. That I love so many lovely songs. I'm glad the window in my room lets in so much light.
