I was reading something about writing a couple of days ago, and I began thinking that I really ought to do a better job of editing my work. I had been so pleased with myself because I managed to eliminate about 99% of the ellipses [...] in my essays when I put them onto the blog.
Those ellipses do sort of smack one in the face upon re-reading. (If by "one", one means "you", with the "you" actually being "me". If you know what I mean. I think.)
(Get me an EDITOR, stat!)
But then this article was going on and on about how the words "actually", "really", "you", "so", "because", "very", and a few other words were just really like totally overused. I figure, if I cut out all of those, then my blog is only about two pages long. Oops! Damn.
So anyway. (Hey, that one wasn't listed!) (The "anyway" part... unfortunately, "so" was....) (Oops! More ellipses... God! This is awful! I have to get a grip!)
Forget all of that. Let's talk about Romania.
Let me tell you what I've learned so far.
Apparently every single person who still knows how to sew clothing has moved to Romania. And they have brought every single fabric store and every single button shop along with them. Which might explain why you can't find a fabric shop in Warsaw to save your life (truthfully, I haven't tried that hard, but whatever.)
The end result is that you can't move two feet down any street without peering into yet another fabric shop. Then there's a whole street of wedding gown dressmaking shops, which didn't move me emotionally since I bought my wedding dress on sale for $75.00. Never mind that it wasn't what I had in mind and it wasn't especially flattering. The important thing is, it was cheap. Like me. Oh hang on, I didn't really mean that.
I was going to pull an "Annette"* today. This is where you just pull the covers up over your head and loll about until noon, order room service, and don't do anything at all cultural or edifying for the whole day. Nothing intellectual at all. Reading is only allowed at the bare minimum -- Jilly Cooper novels or similar fare. Nothing in French. No Polish grammar review. No. Nothing. Maybe go to the gym about three if you feel like it.
She's lots of fun. She's allowed to exhibit this kind of travel behaviour because she used to be a Playboy bunny. Bunnies can do whatever they feel like. Right? Right!
I think I'll probably go look at the gym about three o'clock. Then we'll see.
However Mr D, cleverly I thought, didn't make me my Novotel instant coffee this morning, which I believed to be a sly ploy on his part to force me to get out of bed.
After finally making my own coffee and getting dressed and putting on makeup and eyeliner (long process with no magnifying mirror. I probably look like Amy Winehouse right now. Yuck.) I thought, "Oh, I'll do a little shopping."
I walked to the big shopping mall in downtown Bucharest, which looks promisingly massive from the outside but is actually the most bizarre bazaar I've yet seen. It was a strange mixture of old and new, of stalls and shops, of brand-name clothing and stuff your Romanian grandmother might have made for you when you were about fifteen years old. If you had a Romanian grandmother. I tried to get excited about all of it, but failed, so I walked home to the hotel. (What is it saying, when I refer to a hotel as "home"??)
I went to the hotel gym and in fact worked out for 40 minutes, which counts as major self-improvement since I've mostly been sitting around surfing the internet lately. And exercising my phalanges.
Doesn't that sound exotic? Ooooh, I love it when I speak Latin. (I mean Greek!) Latin is so.... sexy.
Ok, not really, but Mr D took Latin for two years in high school and I'm trying to make him feel better since he totally overdid it last night and is suffering today. Which explains him lying face down on the hotel bed, in the dark, at the lunch break.
You know those corporate dudes. Total party animals!
Clearly, this is also why he failed to make my coffee this morning. And that's 50 points off on the PBMPI scale.
Poor baby. He's down: -48.5 (PBMPI). And he feels like cr*p.
Bummer. Maybe he can try harder tomorrow.
*Annette [both the concept and the actualisation of the same] is copyrighted, registered, and trademarked, and may not be used in whole or in part by other parties not party to the "party agreements" with the original party-er... which would be Annette, after all. Party girl extraordinaire! Where's the white wine?? Ohhh, those bunnies!