A-Musing Witch's Blog

Why I gave the Mannequin Cookies.

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keyleth1

Some days you wake up full of the joys of spring, you slept enough, the sun rays are bouncing off some twinkling trinket you couldn't help but buy in some sale of a shop you never normally go in. The smell of coffee makes you smile as you stretch lazily, starfishing the bed. the gentle breathing of your cat curled up beside you on the bed. Well today wasn't this day.

I was rudely awoken by the neighbours yelling, the house was freezing from an open window above my bed, the cats arse was in my face because she had claimed the other pillows, if she stretched she would be using my forehead as a bloody springboard, Luna the dog, that thinks its a cat, had somehow claimed the bottom of the bed using my feet as pillow so i was twisted like a pretzel. to top it off it was almost lunch. 

I trundled downstairs in less than glamourous fashion, and crashed into my office, that screamed into my face that i had left the decanting of some herbs half done last night and the floor was awash with lavendar buds, some random bark i had brought months ago and frankincense resin bits, where i had clearly been guessing, in the dark, where the mouth of the jar was. Im going to remind you all im a Virgo. Organised. Orderly. Neat. hahaha. not this week!

I spent today organising files, inputing information on pages hidden to the public, because i need to check it when im in Goddess state, not the 'still in pj's and still not cleared up scattered herbs, hot mess' i am currently rocking. 

I've made the decision to be open and honest about my life on the Musings. We all paint this picture of a false reality on social media. thats bullshit and a crappy way to live as we never will meet the ridiculous high standards we set for ourselves. for example, god help anyone that posts a picture of me i haven't vetted, in case im pulling an insane face or my chins outway my face. 

The reason i gave the mannequin cookies? the smug meditiating bitch watched me eat them for breakfast.

 

 

 

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