Common Knowledge

Chapter 8

New update!

Nothing momentous has happened since Saturday!

I did go back to yoga yesterday. There was this guy there going commando and wearing very tight biker shorts, very perturbing. What was he thinking? I mean, he most definitely is no Harry Styles. Luckily I managed to get a place far away from him.

Hope your work week is going well!

Eight

Dragging myself out of bed the following morning was genuinely arduous. When the alarm set on my phone buzzed I engaged in this little game of hitting the snooze option several times, expecting somehow morning wouldn't come until I felt really rested. Finally, I had to give reality its due, open my eyes and begin evaluating what I'd wear. My sleep addled brain complied under duress.

It seemed like this English summer would still fit in a few warm days, so I decided upon a pair of shorts and a long sleeve ruffled collar shirt. After debating a little I settled on espadrille wedges for my feet, I found them to be less casual than trainers and not as dressy as sandals.

My makeup took a while. Never poke at your eyes with pointed objects such as eyeliner and mascara wands unless fully awake.

I've drawn all my life, I always doodled away on the corners of notebooks and notepads. When I transitioned to my teenage years, makeup did render some traumatic experiences with primary colors (red, blue and yellow might look good on a drawing page but not on your face) from which I quickly learned and stuck to a basic nude palette for eyes with colored lipstick during the day and black and grey eyes with nude lips for night. My drawing skills paid off making sure I could do a neat cat eye line if I so wished.

When growing up my hair proved to be a harder challenge than makeup, so I started to cut it shorter and shorter, even sporting a pixie do for some months, which The Duck hated. He loved women with long flowing siren tresses. During our entire time together I always bent myself over backwards to accommodate even his even tiniest wishes and whims. The only rebellious streak I showed was my hair length. I rationalized with him that it was much cheaper that way and that we were saving a fortune on hairdresser bills, and he relented. At the moment my was cut in a chin-length bob, with slightly elongated strands at the front. The money-saving argument I'd given The Duck, was not actually true since my short locks required frequent cuts to keep their proper shape, but I always relied on Joy for that. Also, following Joys' sure' fire advice I undergo an anti-frizz treatment every four months, which means I can skip the blow drying when pressed for time.

"Maybe I could wear a headscarf thingy today?" I thought inspecting myself in the mirror. I called my own bluff immediately "Don't kid yourself, only Harry Styles can pull that look."

I was startled out of grooming worries by a knock on my bedroom door, followed by Harry's voice "Good morning Bliss. Is about time to start our work session. Can you please let me in?"

I stood completely frozen.

Harry

Styles

In my

Bedroom

Had I conjured him by thinking about his hair accessories? What to do now?

"Come on, Bliss. In the email I sent yesterday, I said we'd meet in Gemma's bedroom. Is to avoid any distraction from the house, Mum has two cats of her own and feeds way too many strays. But if you aren't amenable to it, we can go to my bedroom. Or downstairs if you're avoiding bedrooms altogether. Besides, I've got coffee." Coaxed Harry, through the still closed door.