Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Thoughts over Breakfast

Yesterday morning I woke up to a knock at the door and that sinking feeling you get when you realise it is in fact much later than (you thought) you had set the alarm for. It was the washing machine repair man, arriving for my 9am – 1pm slot at 9am. That NEVER happens when you actually want it to. I had also intended to do a quick sweep through the house before anyone not living here is allowed in, but obviously didn’t have time, so he must think I’m some crazy woman who opens the door in her dressing gown with matted hair and smeared eyeliner and keeps laundry on the kitchen table and cat biscuits strewn across the floor. Which is true, but I like to pretend otherwise to people I haven’t met before. No wonder he declined my offer of coffee.
In addition, when he asked to use our loo Mia Cat trotted in ahead of him and prostrated herself in front of the toilet. I was going to go and move her, but he was already going through the door and there was a little lost in translation between us so I didn’t say anything, and I thought that he might think it was really weird if I followed him in to the bathroom, so just pretended I hadn’t noticed. I hope he wasn’t one of those people that expect privacy. On the plus side, our washing machine got mended really, really quickly.
This week I’ve got something work-related going on that I really don’t want to be doing, so I’ve been quite productive with non-work-related stuff. I’ve been knitting – hoping to finish this little something before the weekend for my mum’s birthday. Otherwise I may have to actually leave the house for the first time in 3 days and go shopping.

I’ve also been easily distracted by the garden – everything is suddenly growing and I can hardly keep up. We’ve had lots of creepy crawly visitors, which the cats think is fantastic. I got an enormous spider deposited at my feet as a present yesterday.

At the bank holiday we decorated the living room, only a year after we said we would. I’ve got some before and after photos to sort out soon. I can't take too much credit for the hard work - I’m still a little incapacitated, so my role was more that of creative director. I am getting better and I hope that I’m able to shave my own legs some time soon. I think City Boy does too. The good news is that I have codeine.

When I hobble to my physio every few days and she greets me with ‘Hi, how are you?’, I’m not sure whether that’s just polite conversation to which I should reply ‘fine thanks’ and ask after her well being, which seems slightly incongruous given that I’m obviously not fine otherwise I wouldn’t be there, or whether I’m supposed to launch into a list of what exactly hurts that week, which seems premature when I’m not even through the reception.
On a completely unrelated note, an advert for the next season of Dexter just came up - that's very exciting.

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