Right now I’m (re)watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s; something I’ve been meaning to do for months now but I’d never got around to it. I’m at the part where George Peppard is climbing under everybody’s legs during the party to answer the telephone. Because I’m home alone tonight, naturally, I made myself pancakes for dinner. I put some apples in a frying pan, with some sugar, because it just felt like the Right. Thing. To. Do. But the batter was super thin, so I was like, “Hey, looks like I’m making crepes!” We have this really great crepe cart at uni, and each morning as you walk past the shop you get a deliciously buttery smell wafting through the alleyway and hitting your nose as they start cooking. They also have really attractive employees, but that’s another story. Anyway…what was my point again? I was distracted by good-looking boys who cook you dessert-for-lunch.
Oh, right. My dinner. So I was inpired by the crepes at uni. It turned out to be a real toffee-apple crepe creation — I was pretty proud of myself. And, I feel I should mention, because this is a full-disclosure sort of situation here, every move I make needs to be delicate and slow tonight due to the fact that I randomly decided this afternoon that doing a pilates ab workout from Youtube would be a great idea . Which it was, sort of, but now I’m spent ’cause I’m a lazy butt 99% of my life. I actually feel kinda guilty for having an afternoon off because it’s that lovely time in semester where everything is hectic and I’m supposed to eat, sleep, and write essays only. (I can tell that school is getting to my because I keep half-consciously analysing the movie. No, Alyssa. This is not a literature essay. This is a night off).