Bras not Bottoms

The Smoochie Smoochie party was lovely. I purchased a bra in ‘slut’s red’ or that’s what I called it last night, but today I noticed on the label that it’s called the altogether classier ‘persian red.’ And I ordered three or four more bras too.

(Can I clear up a little … confusion here … someone mentioned ‘toys’ in relation to my underwear party. I’d like to inform you it was a very legitimate and sophisticated party with no ‘toys’ of any dubious nature. Bugger.)

I was sad to leave the party though. (I like women friends – it’s taken me years to realise how much I like my women friends. Husband’s always been my best friend, but, you know, he’s a man…and that isn’t quite the same.) But if I’d stayed I would’ve drunk too much wine and had a terrific hangover this morning. And I thought the Soi Dogs needed me! Ha, hilarious thought. I arrived during the last round and couldn’t really get my head in gear to be any help at all. I gave them one answer of ‘King Herod’, but I don’t think it was correct. We came third from bottom. *Sigh.*

I missed a meeting today – the time had changed so many times that I didn’t have it in my diary. Stupid woman.

Next I went to the Hospital to meet some of Husband’s colleagues: Husband’s secretary just had her first baby. Ahh, baby was very sweet and made me feel broody for about 3 minutes, until I remembered.

I’m afraid I haven’t done anything else with my day, except bask in the feeling of being happier, which is lovely. No writing to report. Will try again tomorrow.