on being professional

Working from home means, most of the time, you can wear what you want. After a while though, the novelty value of going to work in your jim-jams every day (even the snuggly fleecy ones with fluffy seals on them) wears off. Nowadays I just settle for whatever's clean and comes to hand first in the morning.

Scary FlyLady would not approve. She says you have to dress smartly at all times and put on proper lace-up shoes (they absolutely must be lace-ups, no slacking about in slip ons) the minute you get up in the morning. I dread to think what she'd make of my new stripey slipper socks with detatchable Eeyores but I don't care. They are snuggly and keep my toes warm, and make me happy and cosy in a way even my beloved DMs can't.

I once signed up for the FlyLady's email service, despite being strongly advised against it by the person who told me about her in the first place. Big mistake. My hotmail account was overflowing with emails on the importance of wearing lace-up shoes, how to achieve the perfect shiny sink, and proper care of a feather duster. Dear FlyLady, life's too short to blow dry a feather duster. If anyone who knows me found me doing such a thing, they'd march me straight down to the doctors to get the OCD diagnosis officially confirmed. Which reminds me, there was a really funny article about living with OCD in the Observer magazine on Sunday.

Eating news: ack. still bad.