Sundays are always fruitless, work or play. At least mine always are. Knotty problems cropped up at home, disallowing precious moments with love. Isolation can be sanity, so I've taken a decision to interact with the only other being in the house (my pooch) and dwindle around with the digital camera which was irresistibly loitering around the desks.

I think she's bored too. She's been lingering in her claimed corner since she woke up, and has been lazing there ever since.



Lined up the collection of nail polish I've been stuffing in my drawer. Yes, I do own and use retro pink and neon green nail polish. Don't digress.
Current read. The introduction itself is filled with heavily feminism-injected contents. Just my type.
Indeed, entries here always end with something pertaining to Nique. I just MMS-ed this image to her. I miss that rockgod. Love does this. Even the graphics on a printed pack of tissue paper reminds me of her.

This particular Sunday is worse, because my hopes of meeting her were just dashed from the same home issues. Tomorrow will improve from today. Adore you Butterbutterbaboonslybyebye.