Seven.

It was probably around this time last year that I posted a post with a similar title, but that related to the seven songs that I kept listening to on repeat. Those seven songs are wicked. Perhaps I should listen to that playlist again. Or I might keep listening to the Rolling Stones.

Anyway - today is seven

Because a week from today I will be twenty five and this is my one week countdown of the last days of being a child :)

I think once you reach 25 and beyond people start perceiving you more as a menace to society if you are not stable in a career and, if a Mormon, unmarried. Ha.

I'm quite happy not being married, I have to make that perfectly clear. I'm happy being a singular entity.

When I was 12 and 5 and 7 and 15 and 19 and 20 and 6 and 3 and pretty much able to perceive people and time I thought that people who were 25 were so old, they appeared to have a grip on reality and on their lives, they seemed to be able to do things that I couldn't (at that age) they were free, independent, and they galavanted. But they also had a certain amount of responsibility that they seemed to manage well along with their fun lives.

I always thought that by the time I was 25 I would have a grip on reality and possibly have a stable life and career. I suppose I did, but I turfed it in and opted for a life of uncertainty. If I had not gone back to do my masters degree I would be quite advanced in the design industry. If I had always known I wanted to stay in Glasgow I would have a flat in the West End, I would drink San Peligrino and eat Olives.

The fact of the matter is, I could have done these things, I could have had these things, but I decided not to do it. So now I no longer fit into the pre-determined mould that I once thought a twenty five year old is/was. So what do I do now?

Just go with it I suppose.

Anyway. Today is Seven, and on this the seventh day I woke up at 1pm, I did a spot of work for Good, I went to Asda and bought some coco pops, jaffa cakes and Coppella (the best apple juice in the world).

I then ate a bowl of coco pops while watching the end of Murder She Wrote (an interesting episode I must add). I then jumped in the car with my violin and laptop and headed for the west end, where I still am.

I am currently sat in the most amazing one bedroom apartment with 12 foot high windows and even higher ceilings. I am dog sitting for Maddy Miller, the cutest Chihuahuas ever. Skeeter and Sweetums. I swear they are Ren and Stimpy, regardless of Stimpy being a Manx Cat. Skeeter is Ren and Sweetums is a little bit more robust and is red in colour so looks like Stimpy. I kid you not.

Steeeempeee you eeeedeeeot. I was looking for that clip but I can't find it, this one will have to suffice.



I'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs.

While that video was playing one of the dogs here started growling. I swear haha. The one that is Ren here started growling. Makes sense that he didn't like the song either.

Haha.

But now we know the key to happiness is dancing by smacking your butt off of someone else's amazing.

I walked those pretty little dogs, busted out some tunes on the violin with some splendid acoustics here, and then went to Chow and got a King Prawn Chow Mein. I love Chow, I love Chinese, I love Chinese people with Glasgwegian words seeping into their Chinglish vocabulary. Mega.

I then watched mock the week while eating said food. Mega.

The most significant thing about this is that just being here for a few short hours I feel so at home. I love the west end. And Eilidh and I used to eat at Chow all the time. I miss Eilidh... Soon though, I shall see her. The most amusing thing though is that I coudn't find a fork. I came upon a spoon in the dishwasher, but there is no other cutlery to be found. I really don't know where it could be... I checked all the logical places and then all the non--logical places, like inside the microwave, fridge and freezer. Hmmm. Nevermind, the spoon worked.

And now I will work on some design things I've been too busy to do for months.

I am so thirsty.