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A tale of an angry mosquito and a baby shower

It's not yet midday on this sunny Jo'burg Saturday and I've already:

  • Gotten up, gotten showered, dived into an outfit suitable for a baby shower, an art consult, a diamond deal and a girls night in (DVDs and lots of wine)
  • Managed to resist the temptation to put my frizz bomb (a.k.a my hair) into a bun, and actually straighten it from soaking wet (couldn't use my hair dryer and risk waking sleeping beauty at 8am on a Saturday morning – that's just not fair play in the game that is marriage)
  • Popped into 'Party in a box' to get the perfect shade of tissue paper for a 'we want the sex of the baby to be a surprise' baby shower gift – couldn't be pink, couldn't be blue, so the artist in me opted for the perfect blend of both... purple
  • Clocked 30kms driving like an angry mosquito on the highway
  • Spent fifteen minutes at said baby shower – where I downed up a cup of tea, inhaled a few cucumber sandwiches, guessed the number of jelly babies in a jar and wrote a witty (but pretty cheesy) note in a scrapbook to the little one due in a few days
  • Clocked another 30kms driving like an even angrier mosquito to the gallery (sure that I set a new landspeed record for a 1.2 Fiat Palio)
  • Literally, jogged through Sandton City shopping mall (very grateful that I wore my ever comfortable, effortlessly chic gold ballet flats) to get everything ready for the dodgy Russian's imminent arrival...
  • and now I am sitting down, catching my breath, sipping a much needed cup of coffee and waiting. It's a classic case of 'hurry up and wait'
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