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!


Pics or it didn’t happen!


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.