Contents May Have Shifted During Flight

Yay, it's time for everyone's favorite game - Assorted Contents of Lizbon's Head!

I am having a good day, I've decided. Apart from the long and queasy bus-ride (which sounds like the kind of movie that would make you physically ill - and lo, I am becoming a little ill just thinking about it. So now I'll stop. Thinking about it, that is. And this parenthetical aside, as well).

I got a lot done.

I drank espresso and wished it were cafe au lait and decided that very soon, very soon indeed, it will be cafe au lait, since my unbreakable space-age French press is due to arrive any moment.

In the past week, I have also broken:

1. One side of the male clip on my backpack. This is a very important clip.
2. My bike pump. This is a very important pump.
3. My vow to have no feelings whatsoever, apart from lust, for he-who-shall-remain-nameless.
4. My vow of poverty. Or rather, my vow not to buy anything other than food and shelter for me, and food and shelter for Kitwich.

What did I buy? Well, let me tell you. A big ol' ruby nose-ring, that's what.

Because I don't like the way my current one looks, and I'd simply stared at the ruby so long that my credit card leapt out of its snug little pocket and flung itself into the oncoming SSL transaction.

It'll be here in a couple of weeks; it's being handmade in the UK.

My piercer admonished me to wait a bit longer before changing the jewelry. She never lets me have any fun.

Miss Kitwich loves leaping into and out of cardboard boxes but refuses, absolutely and without hope of parole, to have her photograph taken in one of them. Sorry you have to miss it, folks; it's excruciatingly cute. For those of you who like that sort of thing.

I misbehaved today, in the form of raunchy texting with he-who-shall-not-be-named. But I have an excuse. Goldfrapp made me do it. Don't believe me? Look, just look at this lyric:

Put your dirty angel face
between my legs and knicker lace

Lord.