Absolutely gorgeous day today.
The sky was that vivid blue you only seem to get in NZ (Probably the UV coming through the non-existent ozone layer and frying my retinas), a warm and gentle breeze was zephyring up the valley and over the decks. I had mentioned to my Beloved that I'd be doing some weeding today.
As usual on a Sunday, she went of to the Italian-oriented Godbothering Building, and I stayed at home with a glass of whisky, a mug of strong coffee and a good book to read.
After she came home, we had another cup of tea together, and I had a little nap.(I'm still recovering from the long school term)
|It might not lose suction, but vacuuming still sucks.|
I then vacuumed the house, from basement to living room, leaving it spotless, and went down to the front garden to start the weeding.
I had just filled a shopping bag with the pulled-out weeds when I began to feel sleepy.
There was no special urgency to the job, so I put away my gardening tools and lay down for a little snooze.
30 minutes later, I was awoken by my Beloved who said:
- I had promised to weed the garden
- I shouldn't be lying down on top of the duvet with my gardening clothes on.
- Why wasn't I working.
As I was awakening from a delicious snooze, and was deeply involved in a scrumptious dream involving Gina Lollobrigida, 3 ducks and some Alfa One Bran Spread, I may have said something intemperate, like:
|Bye bye Gina|
F*ck of and let me sleep".
Bbut I may have dreamt that.
I know I didn't dream the rest of the day.
It's really quite difficult to exist in a house being kept at -200°C solely by the exceeding frigid glares from my (ex) Beloved.
|This is actually quite warm compared to the atmosphere at home at the moment.|
Sometimes I really wonder if it's really f*cking worth it.