train of thought
I had a long morning before work in which I cleaned and organized and nibbled on coffee-soaked rusks. I ran accross all sorts of little treasures I had stashed away in a drawer and altoid tins. It made me want to find a little treasure box of sorts to put all the wonders in.
All afternoon, my fingers smelt like peanut butter. All afternoon until about 2 minutes ago when a visit to the lady's room forced me to wash my scented skin. It's kind of a shame, because those peanutbutter fingers reminded me of that wonderful peanut butter apple I had before work. It was a drippy, gooey, messy-sweet gorgeous apple. Now my skin smells like the scented soap they have in the bathroom. This particular soap reminds me of Norway, somehow. Which reminds me of last night when I was thinking about Norway. Which reminds me of the blog I was thinking about writing last night.
It was a good one.
But I think it will have to wait.
Because right now, all I feel like writing about are apples and peanutbutter fingers. And that will just have to do.