That is something glorious about staying in bed on a Monday morning. Normally I would be in the traffic but today I had a note that allowed me to not work. I felt it was only right to stay in bed until start of work time. It would have been rude not to.
I think my parent’s kettle is booby trapped. It boils like a normal kettle but when I went to pour the boiling water into the cup the lid flipped up allowing my had to be enveloped in steam. I feel that this is my parent’s way of telling me that I drink too much tea.
The three times a day routine of stretches is starting to become a habit. On paper, it sounds like a small thing but it always seems to take up a lot of time.
After a lot of procrastination about going up the stairs to get my glasses I finally got round to starting the book that I’d been studiously avoiding yesterday. I don’t know why it takes me so long to start reading a book, it just does.
My reading was interrupted by mum with a pepper, tomato and anchovy thing. It had been grilled and tasted good.
Mum and dad when for a sleep after lunch whilst I sat on the sofa and read. Eventually they surfaced and went to do some gardening. That was my cue to fall asleep. Doing nothing is so tiring.
We had cold gammon for tea, accompanied with a baked potato and some veggies. Yet again I was offered wine. I’m starting to wonder if I’m the odd one out by not drinking wine with meals.
After dinner Dad drove me home. The cat was there to greet me. There was something nice about being back in my house, alone. Although it is nice to be waited on it’s even nicer not to be. I doubt I’m from a privileged lineage because of this.
I spent the rest of the evening finishing my book whilst fussing the cat in a quiet house. It was bliss