I haven’t been blogging, I know.
I would say it’s because my fabulous, new, cosmopolitan English life keeps me so busy that I don’t have time to sit behind my humble computer to pen (er, type) explanations of my fabulosity, but then I’d be lying.
I am in fact still living in Witham, as a kept woman. Originally, I was working for the Shopper for three or four hours a day, getting paid more than what I would have in eight, but these last two weeks have seen such a slow down in editing that I haven’t been able to work much if at all. This means the money in my coffer begins to dwindle, and I begin to feel sort of worthless in the contributing-to-society sort of way. Or, rather, the contributing-money-to-my-at-times-frivolous-consumerism-fund sort of way would be a bit more accurate.
As the days of non-working draw longer, I’ve begun to morph into a domestic goddess. And by “domestic goddess” I mean I did some sewing. While this statement might sound grandiose, I suppose I should elaborate to say I sewed some hook-and-eyes onto a skirt and some elastic into a waistcoat. But, I’ll have you know, it took me two tries – count them, two – to get the elastic to the perfect level of tension. The result is a modified skirt and waist coat. The skirt now has two French bustles and looks quite Victorian, in a way. I had to sew the elastic into the waistcoat, because I bought a children’s size 14+ years at H&M since it was half the price of an adult one and much better constructed. Minus the whole no-waist thing because of the children’s sizing. But never mind that. I’m 14+ . . . 10.
Otherwise I do a lot of walking. Into town. To the train station. My skateboarding has improved immensely, especially considering the fact that I really don’t do that much of it.
I’ve finally heard a bit from King’s about the start of the term. I’ve signed up for a mini international orientation session on Monday 15 September, because I didn’t want to opt to go to the week-long event the previous week, figuring it would be a waste of my time and money in commuting. I’m waiting for my packet from King’s that I need for enrollment, and I’m waiting to hear from my actual department for information on welcome sessions. I’m getting anxious and excited for school to start. It’s been a long summer of not working on school things aside from the occasional subject-related reading, and I’m ready to get back on the ball.
Red and I move into International Hall on 15 September as well. We’re both looking forward to our new life in the Stamp (Postage Stamp, lovingingly named due to its similarity in size to an actual postage stamp).
Oh yeah, and I’ve been wedding planning. Wedding planning is super lame. I can’t think of anything more ridiculous than becoming wholeheartedly consumed with planning one’s own wedding. The invitations that I decided to make myself because of all the time I have on my hands and the money it would save us turned into a two-and-a-half-week-long project! Can you think of anything more hebetudinous? I can’t. Indexing food platters, wine cases, boxes full of pastries, et cetera is fine, but actually figuring out how much of what we need to buy and who is going to pick it up and when boggles my mind. After a month of talking about how we need to find someone to take charge the day of the wedding to set up the tables and food and chairs has resulted in nothing more than more talking about finding said person. I have adopted the following outlook: if I don’t worry about it and decide instead not to do anything about it, it will all work out in the end. Surely, it will all work out in the end.