When my day gets to be too much, on days such as this, when I am tired and grumpy and look like I got hit by a train, I think of the dogs, and it's all ok.

He cares only for his dad, who is hard at work in the gym. I never even get a look in.

He is timid, and sweet, and his owner is a jogger. I like to pat him (the dog, not the jogger), but he is not often easily accessible, and I must wait until he is attached to telegraph poles, waiting as his dad orders coffee.

I am not allowed to get overly excited when I see Wednesday. She wees. I squeal. Everyone is in trouble.

His owner is a woman who wears crops tops in the gym and watches herself in the mirror. I prefer dogs to those kind of people.

Jean. Jean! My love. Forlorn, with pleading eyes. I love him dearly. He is a Lasa Ahpso up for adoption, and had I the room, the balcony or the understanding landlord, Jean would be mine for all time.

She is resident dog of Gasoline. Aloof, she will accept my pats, but doesn't return the affection. And she doesn't want to be photographed lady, so eff off already.

I'm only marginally ashamed to admit that at this stage, my desire to be a skinny bitch not withstanding (it's not working), the only reason I go to the gym is because I hope there will be a pupski tied up at the door.

Is that so wrong?

When one is sore from the gym, and grumpy from lack of simple carbohydrates, there are some things that can improve the mood. (Apart from cake and sloth...such obvious solutions.)

Snygg: nice; fine; tidy; beautiful; precious..etc. Snygg is what my imagined home will be. It will be colourful, but warm and cosy and tidy and clean and fresh. It will almost be in Sweden, but will probably be in Armidale or somewhere similar...

White-washed floors, neutral walls, blond wood, large windows (double glazed), and lots of cushions. Essentially, I would like to live inside an Ikea catalogue. Is that so wrong?


Obviously, certain items are required to achieve such a mood...

..perhaps the jewellery and the shoes are not quite "essentials" for hygglig living, though they included here because they are awesome none-the-less, and will add to my snygg lifestyle.

The post-its are required at present because I was reprimanded on Friday for writing a phone message on one (post-its are strictly verboten where I work. writing a note on a post-it is akin to doing a poo in a napkin and leaving it as a gift. silly me, I should have known better than to pass a quick message over on paper, and should instead have spent an extra 5 minutes converting it to email and incorrectly copying the phone number. must. try. harder) , and I need to modify the medium to get my message across more clearly: "Blah blah blah. The end."

I will need herb planters for my kitchen garden, which will thrive on lack of care.

I will need designer chairs because they are functional and good to look at, and not quite comfortable enough for a fat furry beagle/spaniel to sit in.

I will need a blue teapot. I just will.

I will need some billy buttons to insert sunshiny happy colour into my neutral palette.

And, I have just realised, I will need a lot of money to spend in Ikea.

Shit. It always comes back to Ikea with me...

Old people are always complaining about the youngsters. I can feel myself starting to do it too. For example, I am always irritated by little gangs of high school students who block the door of the train, not getting out of the way even when the train man is blowing the whistle (though I find a hefty whack with a handbag, or an elbow into an internal organ, can help to shift them), and who take up all the seats with their giant back packs and snooty teenage girl expressions. Pffft.

I'm sure we never behaved like that. Mostly because it was Armidale, so there were fewer opportunities for being obnoxious on public transport... anyway...

With all this talk of how things were better in my day, I have been thinking about the slow creep of the digital kingdom into our solid states.. Apparently it spells doom for pretty much every aspect of life as we know it.

I am not convinced. I don't believe that e-books will ever really replace paper books (since I am a user of both!). And while I am sure that not enough people know how to use an apostrophe correctly, it's not necessarily for lack of effort... and I suppose being poorly literate is better than being illiterate? Do you remember what it was like before the advent of mobile phones?? People had to make plans, and be on time and had to actually stick to the plans instead of flaking out at the last minute, ahahahahahah. Apparently some people still do that!

I hear that our increasingly electronic existences will cause the death of letter writing, too. Twitter, text messaging, Skype, and the Facebook status update have changed our evolutionary course, and we are no longer able to think in punctuated sentences, nor can we stretch things out to the point where a new paragraph is required.

But... I am not convinced. I like writing letters. I like receiving them. Admittedly mine have nothing on Austen, and no one will want to read them in 100 years time, but the pleasure remains, and I do quite like my handwriting.

Letter writing cannot die out, because then who will make the beautiful personalised paper goods which I love, and which are Monday's Awesome Thing?? Who will utilise such things unless there are words to be written?

Lace cards - Bird cards - Bunny cards

 Perhaps it's time to pull out my good pen and think of something interesting.

Or well...perhaps I will leave the pen and just continue to stockpile lovely things, in the hope that one day they will be used. I suppose, even though emailing is cheating a little, at least it gives you something to do on a slow day at work.

Not that I would ever.. do such a thing..

..but good for the heart...in a non-sodium-carbohydrate-saturated fat kind of way.

Pretzels. Dipped in chocolate. 


 Obviously use oven baked pretzels, as they are more healthful... And also good quality chocolate (I used Lindt 50% cocoa), because if you're going to feel bad about eating it, you may as well appreciate them on the way down...





In the depths of doom, when you know you shouldn't because of all the personal trainer hooey and the matter of the extremely expensive gym membership and the general lack of self worth and self-fulfilling loathing, junk food, friendship and a bottle of red wine each can do magical things.

It's even better when you have a dutiful man-wife taking care of the BBQ and making sure that no one is injured playing competitive Wii Mario Kart.