Not much, really. My life has become monotonous: work, sleep, eat, work, sleep, eat. I hate my temp job at the Circus so much that it's making me fat... I should be losing weight, but I'm practically a cripple when I get home (from the standing on my feet... and the kneeling on my knees... and from being attacked by highwires and the like). This is what happened the other night:A fan attacked me... no, not a rabid, Cirque-loving fool, just an electrical floor fan. We have loads of laundry to do each night after the last show and it's all air-dried. I was moving the fans about -- because my colleague is about as big as my pinkie (she's tall, but one would say she's quite lithe... I say she's a skinny bitch and while I want to hate her, she's actually very nice. Urgh.) so I try to move the fans every night. I know that picture doesn't look very bad... but believe me, it hurts like a mother and now I have a hole in my pinkie, dear Liza, dear Liza. I didn't need stitches, but I'm sure I'll have a divit in my pinkie for a while after it's healed... yay! a souvenir from my time working my ass off for no money. Every time I look at my pinkie I'll have to try harder... I'll have to remember these days where I'm getting beaten up by a temp job and I'll just have to set my sights higher... or quit before I get too vested.
What else? I made a gorgeous cinammon chocolate-chip banana bread today. Yes, really. It almost sounds like it won't work, and the recipe has seemingly too few ingredients, but the thing is delicious! I'm happy that the weather is cooling a bit and baking is coming back into fashion at Chez A. I've also been living off of slow-cooker food. I feel 20% domestic; it's the little time in my week when I'm awake and at home and not kvetching about "work." I'm happy to be domestic... and so I wonder, would it behove me to take a baking class at some point? If you are to follow your passion, does mine lay in baked goods and fat pants? I'll have to think about this some more when I've had a good sleep.