Ethics, Love and Dinner.

I love my Beloved.

Every day, in many ways I demonstrate my devotion to my Beloved.


So I we went swimming.

I don't actually hate swimming, I just deeply loath it, especially in the cooler months.  Swimming in a blue and glittering private pool, under an azure sky in the summer is sophisticatedly sublime, especially when accompanied by long, cold G & Ts with home grown Lemon and plenty of ice.

Oh Yes, absolutely

Swimming in a public pool in early (f*cking frigid) Spring, dodging the floating faeces, foulmouthed and smelly sub-human teenagers, under the baleful view of Gestapo-stereotypical "Safety Officers" who blow whistles at me for having a friendly (and sanctioned) grope with my Beloved, but ignore the screaming foulmouthed kids swarming like like aquatic lice everywhere, including the Giant Jacuzzi.

AAGGHHH...Horrible

Ahhh, The public Giant Jacuzzi or Spa Bath.
Let's examine this modern addition to public pools everywhere.
It's a giant cauldron, full of bubbling aerated water, full of people who probably haven't had a bath in weeks, and who definitely have ignored the signs to have a shower before entering the spa.
Let's face it, you're lowering yourself into a pot of people soup.

Oh, Look, they're making People Soup.  Yum, yum         *retch*

Oh, look at the shiny layer of human fat on the surface!

Oh. look at the foam caused by the exfoliating skin cells, ear wax, smegma, belly-button lint and arse-crack deposits!

Oh, look at the extra bubbles caused by methane gas release from the guts of diseased and probably syphilitic morons!

Do you dare step into a public Jacuzzi again?

I know that when forced to do so by my smiling (but obviously insane Beloved), I take a bath in concentrated bleach as soon as I can.  The pain of the dermal cells sloughing off, can be regarded as a "good pain", knowing that the Jacuzzi-produced slime from the lower-order contamination is being destroyed.

So we went swimming.

It had been a long and exhausting week at NLHS, and I was knackered.
Getting up every day at 05:30 to arrive early enough to set up the relief teaching is bad, but when combined with staying until 18:00 (to let some of my students desperately try to complete a late assessment) plus sacrificing every lunchtime (for the same reason) then it really becomes exhausting.

My Beloved has had a very trying week as well.

She has had to be up by 10:00  twice this week, so she can attend her Ti Chi class and subsequent coffee and character assassination session, plus of course the monumentally draining twice weekly Mah Jong & Gin sessions with her friends.

So when she said she was really too tired to drive to the pool, I understood.

Oh Yes, I understood.

Now this is where the ethics come in.
I've always understood that when you love somebody, then their happiness takes on a greater importance than your own.
I love my Beloved. I know she likes to go swimming together, so I go along, because her happiness is important to me.
However, I don't like to go swimming, and I've made this concept perfectly clear to my Beloved, yet she insists that we go, "For The Good Of My Health"
There's something wrong,but can't quite put my finger on it.

Maybe one of you nice readers can help.

Please HELP.

However, after we left the pool (my skin still itching from the hypochlorite scrubbing and exfoliation it had just endured) my Beloved asked what I would like for dinner that evening.

How exfoliation works

I suggested a carry-out, like Fish & Chips (I said this because I knew my Beloved was still suffering from nausea and she might not wish to cook.  Honestly.  That was the only reason.  It had nothing to do with my love of chips. Nothing.)  But she said, no, there was plenty of food in the house.

I decided that I would have an omelet.  I do make good omelets, and I knew that with the cheese, bacon and mushrooms in the fridge, I could have quite a substantial snack meal.

Ha.

I had forgotten one basic fact.

My son (he of the pierced earlobe and tattooed forearm showing a delightfully rendered image of the Mexican Day of the Dead with the addition of a Chinese script which he was told meant "May the Lord Bless You" but which really says "I've got a Bastard of a Cold") was at home and planning to go out that evening.  And he was hungry.

So when I got home I smelled cooking in the air, but wasn't overly concerned, UNTIL I discovered that:
He had finished ALL of the eggs
He had finished ALL but 2 rashers of the bacon
He had finished ALL of the mushrooms.

I (after my blood pressure descended below the stratospheric) said it didn't really matter, and that I would just make some instant noodles.

Well, bugger me with a Battleship; would you believe that he had finished off ALL of the instant noodles as well?

I did discover a couple of tomatoes, and half of an avocado that the devouring machine known as my son had inadvertently left, and along with the 2 remaining rashers of bacon made a pleasant sandwich between 2 slices of toast.  (It was only 2 slices, it had to be just 2 slices, because that was all the bread he had left in the house.)

I had really been looking forward to that omelet.

Bastard.

Face me you evil bastard

(Image from highdarktemplar.deviantart.com)

WARNING.

During the research for the image files on the web, I came across this blog site.

Enter at your peril chaps.

The words I was using as keywords in the image search was "Good Pain"

The blog was : http://domdominique.wordpress.com/2010/05/06/tell-me-about-the-pain-mistress/

You were warned.