The queen
of last-minute international flights strikes again. I am currently 33,998 feet
in the air somewhere over the Indian Ocean on my way to Ireland. At this point
the child next to me has finally decided to sleep somewhere other than my lap,
I only need to pee probably a 5/10 and I’ve just started watching The Jungle
Book for the first time in maybe a decade, so I’d say we’re going alright. If
you follow me on any form of social media you’ve probably seen me complaining
about wanting to get out of Melbourne at least six or seven times a week over
the last few months, and as I am a being of action I have finally taken matters
into my own hands and fled the country. Well my own hands and also Jake’s
because I’m staying at his house but that sentence just doesn’t flow as nicely,
does it. Syntax.
It’s only
just hit me that I’m actually going. To be precise, it hit me about an hour ago
while I was watching Spongebob. I had just downed a terrible airplane coffee,
thought about the fact that this plane is actually going somewhere and FREAKED.
THE EFF. OUT. That’s the thing with last minute travel decisions – when you
book your flights eight days in advance you don’t have a whole lot of time to
process your decisions and sometimes you end up giving yourself an excitement
stroke while you’re hurtling through the sky. Not a real stroke though. Mum
gave me some aspirin for that before my flight because she’s concerned about my
various in-seat contortions not being enough to ward off DVT so my blood should
be suitably thin right now. Full disclosure the aspirin made me feel a bit out
of it so did start to wonder if she’d maybe slipped me some proper drugs
instead to get me to chill out, like that time when I was 15 and she tried to
get me to do a shot in the car before I went to get an injection. Just sayin, for
a woman who does not appreciate ANY level of joking about me doing bath salts
on a Sunday afternoon she sure does like to dope up her only child. …This is
where I think we all realise I have no idea what this post is actually meant to
be about.
The Jungle
Book is very boring so far. I think I might swap to a documentary about King
Tut. Yeah, solid choice. Fun fact I’m on a massive Ancient Egypt kick at the
moment (due largely to one of the two video games Jake and I are definitely
going to create regardless of whether or not he realises I’m serious yet, stay
tuned for that) so this is very convenient.
Normal life
lately has been pretty much non-stop work, which is great for saving and is the
reason I was actually able to come on this trip, but oh god it is terrible for
everything else, especially this blog. I’ve done pretty well at keeping up with
youtube videos, but folding shirts for nine hours a day is not particularly
conducive to the kind of mindset I need to be in to write so this has just been
sitting on the backburner. However, I have been planning a lot so hopefully
having a couple of weeks off and being completely out of my routine for a bit
will be what I need to turn those plans into actual content. Plus I just really
love Ireland so if nothing else that should put me in a good enough mood to do
some solid rambling.
I have been
paying absolutely no attention to this documentary whatsoever and I’m going to try
to capitalise on the fact that I’m in a productive mood right now and try to
get some more planning done, so I shall love you and leave you but I should be
seeing you again very soon. Very soon. That is a reassurance to you and a
threat to myself. I also really need to sleep. Alright. Good chat. X0.
P.S. I'm going to Summer In The City
P.S. I'm going to Summer In The City
