in_stead: (take my bearings)



That is all.
in_stead: (Default)
There are good hair days and bad hair days. These are too common to be noteworthy.

More rare, however, is the good ass day, which may be defined as any morning you wake up, pad to the bathroom in the Superman tanktop and white boy-style underpants you slept in and, upon catching sight of yourself in the mirror, think, wow, my butt looks great today! This is a thought that, according to all laws of physics and fashion, should not cross one's mind upon catching sight of one's bottom in a get-up like that. If it does, it's a good ass day.

Today I had a good ass day, but squandered it sitting on the aforementioned region and working on my thesis. Still, I'll take 'em where I can get 'em. In my experience, however, it is entirely possible to have a bad hair day and a bad ass day on the same day, but good hair days and good ass days never overlap. Accordingly, I have a chunk of hair on the side of my head that has unaccountably decided to stick straight out and will not, even under the pressure of water and bobby pins, lie flat.

In other news: thesis continues apace, thank god. I seem to have finally come out of the stall I've been in for the past month or so. End is in sight, light at the end of the tunnel, etc, etc.
in_stead: (the great london escape)
Do you know where I'm updating from? I'm updating from home. Because I found my keys.

I found them in the very last place I looked. And it wasn't that, having found them, I stopped looking, so they were in the very last place I looked. It was that I stopped looking and gave up, but, oh, this one last place, where the keys totally aren't, is on my way out of the university. So I might as well stop in.

And there they were.

Keys are great.

I came home and I fed the cats and I had a bath and I'm now painting my toenails, because it seems like a nice homey thing to do. And later this evening, I'm going to go out again, and meet up with [ profile] mcee to celebrate the fact that I found my keys. And when I get home from being out with [ profile] mcee, do you know what?

I'll be able to get into my house.

Because I have my keys.

in_stead: (signpost)
Ah, signs of spring. This morning I bared my winter-pale legs for the first time since probably August, rode my bike to school for the first time since the snow hit last fall, and spotted my first dark underwear under white pants and my first above-the-waistband-below-the-crop-top thong band.

They were walking together along the path I ride on to get to campus.

oh my eyes.

In other news, this morning's bike ride certainly made clear how appallingly out of shape I let myself get this winter. The path to school is nothing -- no rough terrain, minimal incline. Even if I did ride hell bent for leather on the way in, trying to get there on time after waking up late, I shouldn't have arrived feeling like I was breathing broken glass in the place of air. I certainly shouldn't now feel like I've got limp noodles in the place of legs. While I've never been lean and mean and at the height of physical conditioning, this is just pathetic. The knee injury in January didn't help things, but I could have pushed myself a little harder to get over it, too.

I'm going to do better. It shouldn't be too hard, now that the weather's turned nice. I can as easily spend less of my off-thesis time at the gym or outside as I do lolling on the couch or cruising the internet. I want my England ass back, the one I got after spending a month walking everywhere. I miss it. It was downright shapely.
in_stead: (Default)
What is the point of having a great hair day on a Sunday, I ask you? There's nobody here to appreciate it but the cats.


in_stead: (Default)

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