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So it's Friday night

And I'm at home with a glass of red wine, a pizza hopefully en route (would have popped into M&S for their £10 meal deal if a) I could find a small one close by & b) if our oven was working - it isn't, making cooking a tad hard). The decision for a pizza was made when I climbed out the car after a particularly taxing yoga class - if I'm honest I'm still shaking - and delicious pizza aromas met my nose. I did debate whether I'd drive and fetch it, or get it ordered (ie whether or not to wait for the glass of wine) but I tend to spend so long faffing that it would probably be cold by the time I got there. And it's just arrived, so no use in musing over that decision!

This evening is one of those rare home-with-the-house-to-myself Friday evenings. They don't happen often and I know I should enjoy it, relax, pluck my eye-brows and polish my finger and toe-nails. Maybe - if I can work out how to use the remote - watch a movie? Ooh, and read my book. It's really good and continuing to be juicy (Hothouse Flower by Lucinda Riley). I'm thoroughly enjoying reading it, when I'm actually reading it and haven't accidentally closed my eyes but continued to make-up the story anyway.

So I guess I have some decisions to make, and I better not take too long, it's already quarter to nine!



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