sandra bullock, the proposal, busy, running, multitasking, dog

All the busys

  • Busy trawling the internet for a pair of Castañer espadrilles that a girl you used to work with three years ago had, and which you have suddenly become completely fixated with. The next time you look up, it’s 1am, your head is pounding, you have seven missed calls and are considering giving up your job so you can dedicate your life to hunting down shoes. Surely people would pay…?
  • Busy plotting the death of that girl your university boyfriend kept comparing you to and who ‘accidentally’ spilt Hooch all over your brand new Morgan trousers at your flatmate’s very drunken 20th birthday, even though she blatantly hadn’t been invited and who then puked down your stairs and cried saying it was because you’d intimidated her.
  • Busy lying in bed staring at the wall gathering strength for the car journey you’re being forced to take with your parents because your car broke down, where you’ll be strapped into the back like you’ve gone through a worm hole and are once again 13 years old, mortified by life and desperate to listen to your walkman in peace with your hoodie pulled down over your head.
  • Busy calculating how much time we’ve got left versus TV watching, whilst simultaneously trying to tell yourself that time is only a concept/having a nervous breakdown when you realise that 50 years is only about two and a half thousand weeks, which really doesn’t sound like long enough considering you haven’t found those espadrilles yet.
  • Busy mentally spending the lottery win. How you’ll become a gently powerful, benevolent force for good amongst those you know, paying off their debts, buying them houses, taking them for champagne-fuelled personal shopping sessions at Selfridges. How you’ll hire an assistant to tell you your hair looks nice and answer your emails for you because you’re going to be very busy paying for the entire cast of the Greatest Showman to visit the sick children of Great Ormond Street Hospital (organised from the most expensive hotel on the Amalfi coast, obviously). WOW, you’re good at being rich.
  • Actually busy (which is the one we never say out loud because…well…these days it just feels a bit silly.)
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