I don’t think I’ve ever relaxed quite so much. I’ve been getting up late – not waking particularly late, but if I get up before the Sage, it wakes him, so I only do so if I have to. Then, when he finally wakes up and wants a cuddle (this doesn’t imply I don’t), I then snuggle down for a bit once he has got up, so I’m even later.
Then, the Sage went out to a party – it was a general open house, I hadn’t been specifically invited and I am still in the mood to relax alone, so I didn’t go, and instead cooked myself a substantial lunch which included, but was not limited to, two fried bantam eggs which were so fresh that the yolks sat well on top of the whites, and i, in my turn, sat on the floor by the fire to eat it, with a glass of white wine. Then I read the papers and then I watched the last episode of Series 3 of The Wire. The next series is about the kids, as I remember, and Prez becomes a teacher. And I guess that Chris and Snoop will become truly scary – does it include the buying of the nail gun? That is the most hilarious piece of the whole series.
The Sage went out again later, to show his present to more friends – he is so thrilled with it, it’s like finding the last ever pair of naked mole rats have had babies, in its rarity and also its ugliness. I, having temporarily (I hope) taken charge of the church cheque book, made out several cheques, one of them to me (two other people signed the cheque, because that is Correct) and so all bills have been paid. I have to visit the bank this week, unfortunately, I’m sure the queue will come out the door. Maybe next Tuesday will do.
I have not drunk an injudicious amount of red wine, but if I have any more I might wish I hadn’t in the morning, because it’s very red and so hangover-inducing. Maybe I should move on to something paler. Or maybe it’s time for coffee. Yes, that’s the best thing. Coffee. I’ll see if the coffee fairy is on form this evening. The bin fairies bloody aren’t. I did half their job for them, putting a bin bag by the door, and it’s still there. I wasn’t pleased.
That reminds me, the Sage is on an official warning, though I’m not sure he realises quite how perilous his position is. I’ve explained how vital it is for the dishwasher filters to be cleaned frequently, but he hates the job. So, when he clears the dishwasher (this is not a specifically designated job, either of us might do it), I ask if he’s cleaned them, so if he hasn’t he has to do it. Now, he’s had a bright idea. “I’ve cleared the dishwasher – but I haven’t cleaned the filters,” he says, brightly, as if remembering that the job needs doing is the point. I’ve been letting him get away with it for some time, but now I’ve pointed out that this is a cop-out and no excuse. Next time, there will be a polite request to take his turn at a job neither of us likes.
Putting stuff in the dustbin isn’t my job, so it doesn’t come into negotiations. Any more than doing the washing, which he has never mastered. I may be mean, but I’m quite fair.