self indulgence

I am terribly self indulgent. I am not ashamed of it, in fact it is one of the things I most like about myself.
I used to be such a depressive-questioning-pessimistic teenager, and I like my adult self much better. I used to take myself very seriously, I would suffer and make sure everyone knew I was suffering. I used to read Byron, Shelley and Wilde. Now I will rarely sit and think about mortality and why life is as Woody Allen says - full of misery, loneliness and pain. Because...really, what is the point?
So when I have a day off with no one around, stuck in the suburbs of England, what do I do? I indulge.
My job hasn't started yet and yesterday I was out all day, so I took this day to do nothing. My husband asked as he always does - almost feeling sorry for me- as he leaves to go to work "So what are you doing today?" I smiled and said "Nothing!". I could see pity in his eyes. "Not even going to the gym?" "No. Nothing."
I was going to a museum in London today with my mother-in-law, but she decided she was going out to play bridge instead, and as my husband works all day and even Figgy the cat decided to go "hunting" in the garden, I am all alone. All-alone (grin).
So I spent a lot of time in the shower. I tried a new hair mask, I exfoliated my skin, I blew dry my perfumed hair slowly whilst reading another Audrey biography (Audrey: Her Real Story), which is actually pre-tty good. I had  welsh cakes with coffee. I massaged my feet and sang "moon river", with Audrey still on my mind.
And the day is not over yet, and I have a nice bottle of New Zealand Pinot Noir downstairs. And 2 books to read. Ignorance is bliss, dreams serve for sweet relieving and life is truly lovely.