Back on the river track, and exhausted, heroic, in agony. Life is not as shit as it was. I've concluded that I need two cups of coffee and six kilometres of running each day in order to live. One of these requirements is easier to fulfil than the other, but I'm muddling through.
I haven't fallen through any parts of our floor yet this month. Huuuuuuuuuge improvement on last month.
I have all three songs picked for my audition. O Del Mio Dolce Ardor by Gluck, Widmung by Schumann (glorious), and The Desire for Hermitage by Samuel Barber, my favourite composer, the last song of his Hermit Songs, my favourite song cycle. It's fucking hard.
I'm getting more and more scared that boyfriend and I won't see out this year together, and I'm perpetually swinging between one state of terror and sorrow and another of relief and hope. Sometimes I'm just really curious to see which side will win. Then I feel like a callous bitch.
I bought the sexiest swimsuit ever today. It makes me look like a pin-up girl. I'm thinking of embroidering "You're Welcome" on the back. Perhaps a little much for my son's weekly swimming lesson, but seriously, my norgs never looked so good. I felt edible.
I hope you guys are good. Spring is prancing around shirtless here, handing out margaritas. It seems like every tree's been ruthlessly attacked by novelty oversize blossom cannons. It's hard to be down when the world is smiling so loudly, and bestowing lovely things upon you. And when you have fabulous, pleasing, well-wrangled breasts. Ok I'm going.
Much love
xxx
