Don't move or you'll scare it away.
It is officially summer. Yes, I write about the weather a lot. Can't help it.
Even though the day started out Irish it has turned into a glorious day full of heat and sun. Women are outside in halter tops. They are either pasty white or the color of a pumpkin. Ladies of Dublin, the fake tanner is not working for you. And I think the clothing choice is a bit drastic for 66 degrees but your call.
This weekend is another one of those bank holidays and we intend on spending it getting our hair cut and buying luggage. Does it sound like we're trying to get away? Does it? Because WE ARE.
In six days I will be stateside with my parents. Bub will join me on Saturday after he gets his fill of bachelorhood that consists of takeaway Chinese food and really horrible television where blood with obviously be present at some point. He doesn't watch these programs with me anymore because I close my eyes and then ask, over and over again, "Is it over? Is it over? Is it over?" and he stops answering because he figures, hey, once is enough, I'll tell her when it is over. But then I look and I squeal and he is all, why did you look? And I am all, because YOU TOLD ME TO, SORT OF. And then I have nightmares for a week.
But right now I'm not at all interested in going to the US. The day is just too lovely right now. And as this summer is likely to only last a week, two at most, I don't really want to miss it.