The Sledgehog: procrastinating

So, my mother, over at goodinparts, is doing NaBloPoMo. She’s finding it difficult, but so far she seems to be succeeding. I, of course, am doing nothing of the sort. I’m not even doing my own beloved NaNoWriMo, because November is a really busy month, especially this year, but realising how much she’s been posting makes me realise just how little I update. Which is odd, since you’d think I’d revel in the opportunity for extra online procrastination. And I thought I’d break my bad habit by telling you about dressing up, and my spontaneous dressing-up day, which I’ve affectionately nicknamed Scarlet Sunday.

I love dressing up. Regardless of the occasion – if I have the chance to enclose myself in some costume or other then I’m usually quite a happy bunny. Indeed, I tend to assume most outfits have a mini costume in them... I certainly switch behaviour patterns with clothing choices. (And, having typed that, wondering if this makes me weird.) At the moment I’m most excited about scheming for my friend’s party – still almost a month away – where a large L is the central theme. Should I be obvious? Or abstract? A Lovecat? Lethargy? Little Miss Sunshine? Librarian? The choices are eternal, and huge amounts of fun. And the only option currently crossed out is Little Red Riding Hood, since she are quite prominent today.

Scarlet Sunday accidentally began at seven am. I’m not entirely sure why this was, but it may have had something to do with how much I was enjoying dreaming about publishing the Book of Doom. My subconscious is a hard taskmaster, and presumably suggested rising early to do a bit more editing. Bitch. Anyway, having woken up early my brain was feeling somewhat flaky. I took full advantage of this and went on a procrastination spree. And have a new favourite site: Gala Darling It is possible that she might be the single coolest person in the world, but after about an hour of revelling in her style I was quite ready to slip back into full Lucinda mode. Which, today, involved playing fairytales. My redder-than-red 70’s dress, NHS cloak and the prettiest heels I own. Sadly the big bad wolf didn’t come for me, but we all lived happily ever after anyway. At least until it rained, and I got soaked.