In her shoes.

Sometimes, insignificant events make such a happy puppy out of me. Like finding the song I have a strange craving for at 2:30 in the morning. Like getting the last carton of the only chocolate milk I like at the mart. Like finally collecting the two pairs of shoes I had ordered last week because they didnt have my size then (black pumps and leopard-print stilettos, if you must know). January is racing past. As much as I poke fun at people whose lives revolve around their work, I am slowly inching towards that myself. So much is happening at work. Long hours. Presentations. Big budgets. Bigger targets. Everyone wants to know everything. Apparently this is supposed to give me a power high. But it has failed to do so. So what if some bigwig is impressed with my work? Show me the money. It is bonus time next month and unlike everyone else, I am too tired to guestimate my share. All I know is, if the tickets get confirmed, I will be spending a fine portion of that on my Sydney trip next month. Which reminds me - as dire luck would have it, I booked the wrong date, and after some irritating conversations with the Singapore Airlines call center, I am now holding 2 bookings, each with one leg waitlisted. The stupidity, I tell ya! But I have a good feeling about this trip. I think it will work out. I will so badly need a break from work by mid-February. For now, I have joined Salsa lessons and I shimmy my way through 2 hour classes every thursday to break the monotony of the workweek. Very cool, it is. Of course the instructor managed to chip my nail last week, and I almost threw a tantrum for it, but it is all good now. I also have a rock climbing course to attend this saturday, but given that I spent all of last weekend in a medically drugged state, and that the person responsible for registration seems to check him email only once a century, I am not sure that is going to work out. In the meantime, I have a fine reading line-up. I am about to finish 'Liar's Poker', a book every banker will enjoy. After that comes Vikram Seth's travelogue through China and Tibet - 'From Heaven Lake'. Next in queue is Paul Carter's 'Dont tell Mum I work on the Rigs'. This is a christmas gift from a friend in the shipping industry, and is an autographed copy. How very cool. On the side, I am also reading Seth's poetry - All You Who Sleep Tonight. I have been unable to get my hands on Deepti Naval's 'Black Wind and other poems' but some kind soul in Bombay is looking out for me. How very sweet! In the meantime, have a good week you all.. and I will go dig into some chocolate chip bread. Muahahahhaa!