Unbound

Last night after work, I left the office and bought about $10 worth of salad and art supplies, only to run into some old friends (and oddly enough, catch a glimpse of Nicky Hilton) as they headed to the Tiffany & Co. party.

It was one of those weeks where you don’t get to catch up with as many people as you’d like, but still know what everyone else is up to. First, they’d do one launch, then the Gucci show, followed by a spot of dancing at Pangea.

I walked to the bus stop, totally exhausted and looking about 100, and a little homesick for my old life. Not so much the enforced partying, but the built-in friends that came with it. You didn’t have to make special plans to see them after work or on weekends. You sat across from them and shared almost 360 of your life with them. Now a Sunday night dinner planned days in advance is as spontaneous as it gets. That said, I love my learning journey and wouldn’t be able to pursue other creative loves if I were stuck in the old story so… silver lining.

We said our goodbyes and I went home to read a book Ams brought over. 200 pages demolished in about three hours as I unintentionally sped-read in bed. Doesn’t always happen. Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged as been at the top of my bookheap for two seasons.

I know I’ve been bad with returning personal missed calls and emails. Greg O caught me as I had my morning coffee, we had been playing phone tag for a fortnight.

“Good morning magical princess of the Universe!” he exclaimed. That’s his name for me. (That’s his name for all his magical princesses of the Universe, I suspect.)  ”Your balm? Très fabuleux! It’s superb.”

Talk about wake-up call.

Last night, Eddie suggested getting a virtual assistant. I’m assuming by that, it means one who sits in a call centre in Mumbai with a Madonna headpiece, emailing my mum that I love her.

So I’ve got my notepad and a pen, and am just about to start writing the To Do/Teux Deux list for the weekend. Beyond intimidating, it’s just downright scary. Work and love project. Going to squeeze out every bit of the next 48.

GRATEFUL FOR this very delicious homemade foot soak I’ve currently got my feet in now: super indulgent milk, chamomile, rose buds. Yes, blogging with the feet in a giant glass bowl of warm, milky floral water. Looks like watered down Milo but smells and feels hella AMAZING… waking up in bed to a massive thunderstorm on a Saturday morning… free hugs from my favourite Red Velvet cupcake suppliers, my friends/husband-and-wife duo Danish & Alia of Swirls… runny eggs and soldiers,  Chinese-style…

To Do list, you shall be conquered.

Also, in LOVE with my new juicer. Am convinced this pineapple/orange/carrot/ginger concoction has more sugar than Coke, but it’s so refreshing.

Ok. *insert Arnold Schwarzenegger accent* Laffing time is oh-vah. Back to work.