Life

Left to my own devices, I find I'm distressingly like the juvenile delinquent little dog--vain, shallow, and quite scattered. Yesterday, I spent several hours perusing perfume blogs. Just contemplating all the lovely extravagant fragrance options. And lamenting the lack of availability of Vol de Nuit in this country. A trip to Paris is sounding more appealing everyday. What a pity I don't speak french, lessons might be entertaining. Even extravagant highly unlikely dreams enchant me in my current distractable state. I thought I was a much more industrious type--a real worker bee, this may take some serious adjusting.

My deplorable tendency toward fussiness remains, but seems to be anchored on the mundane aspects of housekeeping and an obsession with pristine edges and moldings. No one even looks at these things. I suppose it could be worse, I might take up endless comma deleting and replacing.