I´m starting to see a pattern in my manners lately.everything starts with chaining myself to the books full of diligence and caffeine ready to take off like a literary rocket. after some time of avid work, let it be reading, taking notes or writing, I realize that a great fortune lies ahead of me according to my coffee grounds.
I think about it for a little while, start making lists about what ewan mcgregor and I will be doing with these endless assets and leisure time in our personal cottage (him singing "your song" to me every night being a priority) in the midst of strawberry fields (yes, that´s where the beatles kick in).
I conceive that while I am able to see my coffee grounds this is a doubtless signal from the universe of my cup being empty. I struggle for like 10 seconds whether to actually make new coffee or get some delicious café au lait from town. grab my stuff and head for the center. decide that nothing compliments white coffee quite like the new issue of vogue. come back and relax a bit from the hard work I´ve done.
think about my evening plans. call everyone to take me OOUUUT TONIGHT, feeling very mimi from rent. actually find someone. never to be seen again.
so stressful. how are your weekdays going?
wearing tunic from strauss. h&m belt. deichmann shoes. random jewelry.
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