Good with words

Fear... distractions.... the efforts of a self-employed writer to pay the mortgage.... all that jazz.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

The obvious answer, of course

... was to go IN my dress, with big red coat thrown hastily over top. Never mind the red polka-dotted socks peeping over boots - never mind the red frills cascading out beneath my coat - it's mainly OAPs in the local supermarket anyway. So I drove very fast, and pretended that EVERYone does the shopping in a bright red party dress. I didn't look entirely dissimilar to a prostitute, especially with the split lip I am currently sporting. But on the bright side, the only call I missed was from the kitchen people (saying our kitchen won't be delivered next week, after all).

And I bought the champagne. It's in the fridge. Champagne and toothpaste (not in the fridge). No wonder the boys at the till were smiling at one another when I was queueing!

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