State of Flux.

Lonesome

Its happened before, this- this total absolute abandonent of all that I am . It's happened before and all who know me survived it and tutted and consoled me and laughed at me, while I, giddy on myself, forgot to change the sheets because  I was  too busy spray tanning  my legs a delicious shade of conker brown...

You see Houskeepers, once in a while, I kind of fall in love with myself.

It doesn't last and before too long I am back to  she who I  used to be: a person I like  significantly  more than my doppelganger in dangly earrings...

But what the heck is wrong with me? Do other women struggle to find a balance between their inner femme fatale and the housewife/mummy/superwoman extroadinaire they pride themselves on being? Do other women find themselves neglecting their laminated surfaces because they are too busy exfoliating their elbows? Are there other women in this world who occasionally find it damn near  impossible  to create anything more complicated than a rather fetching, accidently on purpose falling down hairdo, when they have a house and a business to run and a three year quite frankly stunned by his Mummy's vast knowledge of the carb value of everything she allows past her lips?

Is this all part of some mystical grieving process? Will I come to my senses soon? Stop re-arranging my knicker drawer and start ironing my pinnies again?

Goodness I do hope so. All this preening is exhausting and I swear my windows must be the talk of the neighbourhood....

And above all else I miss you! Allow me five more minutes of utter vanity and I promise I'll be back with a whole new scrumptiously delicious way of making your world a lovelier place to be...

Bear with me? As my Mum always says, this too will pass....

On My Wishlist...