Dalloway Sundays (Now with shitty cellphone pics!)

Is today a good day?

If you have any kind of depression issues you will probably ask yourself that question a lot. I decided that, all things considered, today might be a good day. I cooked breakfast, that’s a good sign.

It’s a Sunday, and even though I’m slightly peeved because I slept in, which I very much intended not to do, but which was in a way inevitable since I stayed up until like 4 a.m. and when Boyfriend finally found his way to bed at the crack of dawn he was coughing up a storm, preventing thus any notion of sleep. So I slept until past noon. Again. And when I rolled out of bed after my really strange dream (it involved buying an insanely large house in America that was somehow populated by half-feral and very aggressive children no one seemed to be responsible for, and it took me about twenty times to dial 911 because my phone was auto-correcting it to some stupid bullshit) Boyfriend was hogging the bathroom, a test in stalwartness for my bladder.

Still, it felt like a good morning (or midday). A morning where it seemed possible to come across a picture of delicious looking strawberry pancakes and decide to spontaneously declare All Breakfast Sunday. A Dalloway morning (life; London; this moment of June)*. A morning where it seemed easy, almost natural, to step into the tiny kitchen and cook breakfast. Which is exactly what I did. Why? Because I wanted to. Because I want a good breakfast once in a while, even if it takes an hour and is thus not a weekday option. Because I wanted pancakes and bacon and eggs and strawberries. Because I can’t afford to go out to an all-day breakfast place because I need to watch my budget. Because I have a stressful week or two ahead of me and so many things to do that I don’t know where to start, and I have to rely on so many other people to do their part. Also, pancakes. PANCAKES!

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Pics or it didn’t happen!

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As said above, PANCAKES!

Don’t even ask me about the calories, I have literally no idea, so I’m just going with somewhere in the realm of 1000, at least that’s how my stomach feels. How’s your Sunday going?

 

 

*Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway, good grieve, people, if you didn’t catch that we need to get you some literature ASAP. #pompousliteraturestudent

What-a-lotta Saturday

Don’t really care if the world ends tomorrow, I won’t be there to see it. I sent out three applications today and to reward myself I went out and finally found Ben&Jerry’s What-a-lotta-chocolate at my local supermarket. I’m probably going to die of chocolate overdose within the next hour and I want you to know my last moments were happy ones. Happy and slightly buzzing because SUGAAAAARRR! I’m having a sugar rush! I’m outrunning the guys at Formular 1 without a car! I’ll get halfway to Canada before I remember I forgot my plane!

Seriously though, if the world ended I’d probably be too busy running around in a panic to throw a dinner party. As would be, I imagine, everyone else.