Pink, With Sparkles

Hey! What's this in my hand?

Yes. It is a glass of pink sparkling wine.

(Actually I just put it down to type.)

(I just picked it up again, sipped, gave the sort of smug, tinkly laugh that makes fairies burst into flame, then put it back down.)

Last post was all WOE WHINGE HALP ME THE WORLD IS GANGING UP ON ME WAH, but this post is some grotesque opposite version. This post is tra la la, isn't life wonderful, raindrops on kittens and whiskers on roses, etc. Today I have discovered that even when you have a really, really awful work-related day, if someone lovely runs you a bath with bubbles and candles, gets you your book, waits until you are in said bath, then sneaks in with some pink sparkly wine and SNACKS, life can really pick up.

Did you get that? Snacks! In the bath! Imagine!

For some reason I feel like that is totally scandalous.

Last week I played my guitar in public, for the second time ever. I was still terrible, still fumbling hopefully around the thing like I am trying to give the Heimlich manoeuvre to a swan. I tried pretending that the desperate, chord-search pauses were deliberate, hoping that people might think I'm over-dramatic rather than crap. Naturally, nobody was at all fooled. However, some people said that my total lack of skill is "endearing", which is nice. I bet nobody ever said that to Jimi Hendrix.

I have written about four endings to this post, but all seem weird and not in keeping with the pink sparkly feeling.

Maybe I will do some guitar practice, probably I will just see whether I can find any more wine.