This evening I made lemon sugar cookies and wrapped up a pair of tiny, tiny pink baby shoes with ducklings to take to a baby shower for a workmate tomorrow night. Late last year she and I went out drinking with a few other workmates and ended up at the Dixon St toilets at 1am on a Friday morning, drunk off our faces and eating pies. In a few weeks, she's going to be a mum. I really like her and her partner—they're a really sweet couple who got together when she was 23 and he was 18—and I think they're going to be awesome at the parenthood thing. It's weird, though; she's by far the closest to me in age in my team (and, actually, she's 30, and there are maybe 5 staff members in the entire office in their 20s out of a staff of 85ish).

The lemon sugar cookies are really good.

I have been sleeping shittily for the past few weeks, getting about 6 hours sleep on worknights. I don't know. It takes me forever to get to sleep because my toes are cold or my nose is cold or I'm thinking about, like, the tragic/hilarious Mary-Sue of the Week and her life drama. And then I wake up every morning at twenty to seven when my alarm goes off, overheated and cranky. Sigh. I'm currently planning out my annual leave for the rest of the year. I've a week off in late August, during which I'm going to Auckland to visit my parents and jessikast, and with the 14 other days of leave I'm vaguely planning adventures.