A furtherance to "Thursday confessionals", which I've mostly been on a break from the last year or so. Not because I'm not doing stupid shit, it's because I don't remember to write them down and I forget them too quickly.
Pandemic confessional, I checked everywhere (in the mirror) before I left the house, but all I could smell was peanut butter.
It was on my sunglasses.
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Pandemic confessional, well at least my FOMO is gone.
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The new book I'm writing:
Granny pants, tights, sweatshirts and bra-less; how a pandemic gave women back comfortable clothing.
Byline: that's probably mustard.
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Pandemic confessional, links closely with yesterday's post about pandemic styles: tights are not pants. Yesterday I forgot to put a skirt on over pandemic tights before going to town for supplies. "Thankfully" it was snowing so I had my long winter coat on over them.
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Alternating wildly between "people are the worst" and "people are the best". You, my friends, are the latter.
(Most of you)
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Swinging wildly between "I will stay away from all social media for my mental health" and "I haven't refreshed my apps in the last 20seconds... what am I missing???"
*shakes fist at virus*
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