18 Hours Later

My heart has been racing almost non-stop for the past two weeks, partly due to sleep deprival, partly due to excitement and partly due to stress. Yet now, finally, I am calm or, at least, so tired that my heart no longer has the energy to beat that fast. I didn't get home until nine and then had to cook dinner but as I was still in a semi-automated state, I just cooked the lemon-and-olive-oil marinated chicken and the new potatoes and the sugar-snap peas and then collapsed onto the sofa with the Gossip Girl season finale (the Daily Intel's title, "Georgina Ex Machina" was much better than the actual title of the episode, "The Goodbye Gossip Girl," which would have been OK had Josh Schwartz not named an episode "The Goodbye Girl" in his last show)--where Chuck finally did the right thing by B (and he also went to Paris to buy her favourite macaroons). 

After I finished watching GG, I got my Tudor fix by ploughing through some more of Sovereign as I ate some kind of white-and-dark-chocolate-mousse-and-caramel-millionaire-shortbread I managed to procure from M&S (for whom Maman, it seems, will be appearing in some promotional photos and/or ads soon, having been recruited while shopping as "a real shopper" (and I thought I got the shopping genes from Papa!)). Already, I was feeling better.

However, my already limited TV shows are running out by the week--now only The Tudors and HIGNFY remain: oh noes! As I have several movies backed up on my computer and ready to watch, this is probably a good thing. My movie-going quotient had been so high this year until the chaos of the past few weeks screwed everything; as this weekend is a bank holiday, I may have to catch up on cinema trips as well as zeds.