March-ish

Good morning!

I see your two weeks and raise you two days. Writing is hard. Plus, I’ve let myself procrastinate in part due to the construction of an elevator just outside my door and OH DEAR GOD CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME? ALL THE WORDS IN MY HEAD ARE BEING DRILLED OUT BY THE BARRAGE OF … ah, break… various hammering and, OH FOR F*CKS SAKE, DRILLING THAT HAS BEEN INFILTRATING MY…house. Humph.

Speaking of our friendship being over, you’ve completely crossed the line with the donut post. Eating donuts, in NYC, without me. My heart stopped beating, froze and then shattered into tiny pieces on the floor only to be discovered by the hubs later, who asked “who was it this time that broke your little donut-shaped heart?”. Traitor. The last “donut” I ate was from an (unnamed) overpriced Singaporean chain, with good intentions, but lacking authenticity. Said “donut” was unquestioningly wolfed down without complaint, but these are desperate times. Next time, you’d do well to express mail that sh*t directly. You know the address. I’ll be waiting.

***Sudden ADD attention switch*** Spider on the wall big enough to make me cringe and high enough for me to be totally defenseless. If I stare at it I can track it like a huntress; if I waver my gaze said spider disappears. Hubs is very tall and kills bugs like a Bruce Lee apprentice, which I find exceedingly masculine. Since he isn’t home I’ll have to wait and pounce, using my well-practiced giant shoe squashing + squealing technique. One eye on the wall.

Speaking of segues, I went running a couple of weeks ago. Outside. In the heat. Voluntarily. TWICE. What?! I know. I’ve long been a proponent of the idea that one runs when 1) one is being chased (rapist/serial killers/children) and/or when 2) one is chasing things (donut trucks/puppies). So running in the Singapore humidity was obviously outside my long-standing belief system. By running, of course I mean staggering behind hubs (who, even sitting at a desk all day is still smugly superior in his fitness) just long enough to feign a respectable pace whenever he turned around to make sure I hadn’t died on the pavement. There was a lot of whingeing involved, but it wasn’t horrible (the whingeing). I might even do it again (the running). This time with more songs on the IPOD to drown the sounds of my huffing and puffing.

To reward my inner, emerging Olympian, I’ve been watching Life’s Too Short. Not heard of it? Start with Extras. Glamorous expat living lends itself to TV globetrotting. You’ll love both. Take copious notes. Discuss.

Now, my last piece of important news may upset you. But I want you to know that this will not affect us and what we have. So, brace yourself…

… I’ve been cheating on you with another blog and it’s…ack!… no, wait! Come back! It’s just a silly a smarty-knickers blog related to the work I’ve been doing! I swear! I’m not writing letters to anyone else! … you still with me? If you are, then soon I will let you know about Blog 2. But nothing will compare to this. Nothing. You were my first and that will always be special. Like cheesy fries with gravy.

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