D'you know, it really hasn't been a good day. The lovely weekend that we'd planned as a last hurrah before The Bearded One disappears into the dark fog of filming for the next few weeks has rapidly disintegrated into, well, a dark fog. Of weather and work.
I don't want to complain too much, but you know what, I'm going to do it anyway. This weather is a joke. I mean, the longest day of the year is just over a month away, which, to take the half-empty approach (which I will do as I am in a mood) means that it's a downhill slide from thereon in. And, ahem, have we had any warm weather to speak of yet? Have I had a chance to wear the summery clothes that I bought with dreams of sunshine (and a baby who is now old enough to not be having a detrimental effect on my wardrobe) in mind? Do I have - never mind a tan - so much as a glow?
It's. Not. On.
And then there are the parties that have been cancelled because of the lousy weather - admittedly, mostly for people under the age of 6, but that's not the point. After all, there's usually wine for the grown-ups, and in the current absence of nights out in pretentious bars (my favourite kind; anathema to The Bearded One) I'll take what I can get, thanks very much.
Finally (no, I'm not done yet) The Bearded One's job is too annoying for words. It's one thing that he is going to be away for 3 weeks; another entirely that he has been summoned to go and sort out technical problems on a Sunday and that it takes all bloody day.
He's not happy when he gets home and, although it's not his fault that the day's gone awry, I'm moody with him. Sensing our irritation, the children, too young to know to pour oil on troubled waters, play up. Argh!! Someone pass me a drink!
Once the children are (finally) in bed, The Bearded One closets himself away in his office to get up to date on invoices, leaving me itching for just a teeny bit of retail therapy, just to cheer myself up a bit. Slumped over the dining table, I consider options listlessly. Not compulsively, frenziedly, excitedly or avidly. Listlessly. Listlessly! What's wrong with this picture?
I mean, there is nothing, nothing I want!! Obviously there's nothing I need, since I still have unworn purchases jostling for my attention in the wardrobe (hang in there, my lovelies, we shall be as one as soon as this sodding weather sorts itself out. Or I emigrate. Either one) but to not even desire anything on an "ah, what the hell" sort of basis is unheard of.
Unless .... unless. I spy a Mango stripe dress which has a touch of the Westwood about it, but not so much that I'd be constantly tugging at folds and twitching my shoulders. And I'm a sucker for an exposed zip. Nyaaaah, I dunno. Is it too worky? Bright, bold and unnecessary enough to almost bring a smile to my scowling face is a daisy print sundress by Ringspun. Cute. But too Orla? Too ambitious, given this elusive summer?
I seem to have lost my purchasing mojo, folks. Which, if any, should I buy? Let me know what you think: in the meantime, I'm going to work on getting a disposition as sunny as that dress. Being a moody cow might be good for the bank balance, but god, it's soooo boring.