The Celebration Day

Oh my god. Yesterday was Celebration Day in Lisa's world. Quite an experience.

Firstly; shopping. Of course. Managed to motivate myself into spending a staggering £200 in approx two hours. "I'm worth it" was the theme of the day. Later on I lost both shopping bags in a drunken daze, containing not only the new outfits (two pairs of shoes, a coat, a cardigan and three tops) but ALSO my favorite jacket. Woohoo. But more on that later.

After a few celebratory Starbucks Banana Caramel Frappucinos downed with British gossip literature at hand, I made my way to the old neighborhoods to meet up K. The Ex was there. Not entirely surprising though; it is, in fact, his local. Anyways.

Meeting went well, slightly chilly breezes from one part but hey. I do miss him, I do still care for him. A lot in fact. But, and it needs to be said, I do not want to get back together, it's not in my mind. What we had was lost in confusion and outer circumstances, irrevocably so. I do however want him in my life. I am not the kind of person who simply excludes people I care about from my life, that's just not me. I think that he also wants me there, but I might be mistaken. We'll find out. So far, a drunken seal on drugs could easily show more enthusiasm seeing me than him.

Anyway; fast forward around two hours and three (!) glasses of wine. Me and K are at the local keyboard bar, slightly drunk and very happy. We make the apparently fatal mistakes of 1) doing a dance in front of The Keyboard Man 2) "accidentally" touching his precious instrument (yes, I'm referring to the keyboard, nothing else) with our fingertips 3) stealing a "Reserved" sign from a table and moving it to ours (why? not a clue, probably very logical at the time). We got thrown out and barred. My social life will never be the same again.

Sometime during all this merriment, the bags disappeared. Didn't discover this until 1am, safely resituated back at D's flat. What to do? Well, of course; put on shoes, grab keys and phone but no money or coat and go looking. In the middle of the night. Seriously, I shouldn't be let out of the house while drunk - better yet, should have a one glass limit and hot male single guardian at all times. At least the guardian.

If I had a guardian, I probably wouldn't have busted into my newly non-accessible keyboard bar twice snooping under tables, neither would I scream and play charades with a Summerfield’s guard trying to mime (yes, seriously!) "one yellow bag from Selfridges and one white bag from TopShop", nor would I have called a sleeping and, quite rightly so, annoyed Ex at 2am requesting immediate assistance (which I of course didn't get). What a night.

This morning (or rather late afternoon), the bags where safely returned to my hands, and got to once again travel through most of London City and spend a few hours at Starbucks. They were happy and undamaged, and so am I.

More celebrations!