I should be catching up on all the stuff I couldn't do while studying, but so far this week I've been having a multi-day one-woman party. Have let my ADHD brain off the leash to chase imaginary squirrels, and I'm listening to music, daydreaming, composing witty replies to wittier people on the Fediverse and not sending them, etc.
Currently sipping wine, eating olives, and collecting reference images of hairstyles. Ruben recently suggested I might benefit from less conservative eyewear - a very sound observation, diplomatically made. Come to mention it, I don't have any nice jewellery either. Also, for the last year I've been wearing "my" hair pretty much as I'd done in my early teens, which is not too jarring for me when I look in the mirror and pretty consistent with standard Carlton old lady hairdos. I love it, because it's me, but it is a bit boring.
I've tried being more adventurous. "See, this is nice!" insisted one saleslady, patience nearly exhausted, "It makes you look younger. Don't worry about the colour; it just looks like you've been to the hairdresser for foils."
Well, technically it makes me look like I'm trying to look younger. In fact it looks uncannily like my former mother-in-law's hair after a visit to the hairdresser. Which works fine on a pixie-statured retired nurse, but not so well on old Easter Island face here. Comfort zones exist for a reason.
If the weather's not too horrid tomorrow afternoon, I'll venture out beyond the Melbourne gentrification ring and cruise the charity shops along High Street to work this out of my system. I think the old lady who lives in my mirror looks pretty damn good. She just needs to wear it with more confidence.