Is the grand total of sleep-- I'm lying, I snuck in a 20 minute nap midday Sunday, so 55 minutes is the grand total of sleep I've had since I woke up at 830a Sunday morning. Its Monday night, almost 11p.
I'm pretty impressed with myself.
I haven't had a melt down, I haven't even cried. And today was one of the hardest days of location for me: Move-in day. Imagine all the stress of moving into a new house and hooking everything up, discovering the internet doesn't work, the coffee machine is too fancy to figure out and you've been frying every electronic device you've been plugging into the wall.
Oh yeah. Something about voltage and maybe watts or transformers and numbers like 220 and 110 and 13 volts floating around. THANK GOD Apple products are all yoked up and ready to work internationally. Not so much for the Radio Shack computer speakers that squeaked out one last burp when I plugged them in. So it looks like I'm going shopping for a few things.
A little warning, yall? I've heard a bazillion times I don't need to tip at a pub, but I've never heard about the all-mighty English power of electricity that is so behemoth as to literally electrocute my poor little electronic toys to death. Have I...?
The house I'm in is stupid. As in phat. Or like dope. Or along the lines of "OMFG THIS PLACE IS EFFING AMAZING!" (Became very aware of my grandma with that last sentence, yall know what I'm talking about.) Huge with lotsa bedrooms, but who cares because the ACRES OF ENGLISH GARDENS are where I want to sleep and eat and shower and live forever. I want to roll around in the herb & vegetable garden. I want to sleep in the heated pool. I want to dance in the flowers- this, I will do.
I didn't know I loved English gardens until I walked through this one and had a prettygasm. It is so damn pretty! But difficult to photograph. In fact the only picture I've taken in this place is of the best toilet in the world.
I like toilets. They're important.
I'm pretty impressed with myself.
I haven't had a melt down, I haven't even cried. And today was one of the hardest days of location for me: Move-in day. Imagine all the stress of moving into a new house and hooking everything up, discovering the internet doesn't work, the coffee machine is too fancy to figure out and you've been frying every electronic device you've been plugging into the wall.
Oh yeah. Something about voltage and maybe watts or transformers and numbers like 220 and 110 and 13 volts floating around. THANK GOD Apple products are all yoked up and ready to work internationally. Not so much for the Radio Shack computer speakers that squeaked out one last burp when I plugged them in. So it looks like I'm going shopping for a few things.
A little warning, yall? I've heard a bazillion times I don't need to tip at a pub, but I've never heard about the all-mighty English power of electricity that is so behemoth as to literally electrocute my poor little electronic toys to death. Have I...?
The house I'm in is stupid. As in phat. Or like dope. Or along the lines of "OMFG THIS PLACE IS EFFING AMAZING!" (Became very aware of my grandma with that last sentence, yall know what I'm talking about.) Huge with lotsa bedrooms, but who cares because the ACRES OF ENGLISH GARDENS are where I want to sleep and eat and shower and live forever. I want to roll around in the herb & vegetable garden. I want to sleep in the heated pool. I want to dance in the flowers- this, I will do.
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| It ain't an English Garden |
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