Jan. 17th, 2004

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Today's my Mum's 70th, and I'm in the high street trying to pick her up a present before going round there. The problem is that I can't decide whether to ignore her wishlist and get her something that I would like, nay, enjoy giving; or be a good daughter and buy her the sodding set of scales she asked me to get her last week.

I mean, scales? Quite apart from my honest conviction that they're the devil's invention and that she at least really has no need of them (I've never understood her morning and evening ritual of weighing herself, seeing as that both she and my sister are reed thin)-- how prosaic a birthday present can you get? Even if I ask the sales assistant to tie a bow around them, they're still...scales!

I know I'll probably end up buying the damn things anyway -- she never wears the jewellery or the perfumes or the scarves I've given her in lieu of what she asked for in the past, but why do I have to have a mum who's so aaaarrgh practical all the time? Going shopping for household appliances? Not my idea of fun.

Beside which, it's raining. In fact, it's pouring down. And my trainers aren't water-tight. And my hair's a mess. And I'm going to have to spend the rest of the day cooped up with my aunts and cousins, some of whom I haven't seen in years. If I don't see people for years, I think it's fairly accurate to say that I'm not interested in seeing them, so all in all, I don't think I'm having an especially good day today.

It started off alright, though: sitting by the fire going over [livejournal.com profile] bogwitch's opening chapter of her new WIP, entitled...well, she's not entirely happy with its working title yet, so perhaps I'd best not mention it. Which has nothing to do with the fact that I've forgotten it for the moment...;-)
As introductory chapters go, it has a nice, melancholy feel to it; and I can tell it's going to be angsty. No snarky Spike yet, but I'm sure he'll find his way into the story before too long.

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gamiila

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