Up with the lark, tra la! -- so long as someone had coshed the lark with a sock full of wet sand -- to minister to the breakfast needs of The Small Object of Desire and The Cat I Don't Have. It is not a morning for delicate masculine sensibilities.
Looking at the state of the bath I wonder, yet again, that The Small Object isn't bald.
"You could stuff a good-sized middle-aged man with all that hair," I said.
"That had been my plan," she replied.Waving her off to work with a cheery smile (which prompted her to point out that there's nothing erotic in "a grimace and a lot of snot-filled grunting"), I turned to look at the hall. Railway Cuttings will never be an Ideal Homes photoshoot but even by my standards it's got a bit untidy so I took to giving the stairs a sweep with the hand brush. The look of disgust that The Cat gave me as she stalked out of the front door will haunt me till lunch time.
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2 comments:
I keep trying to remind myself that if we were having a hot dry summer I'd be wishing for it to be cooler and for some rain to fall but it isn't working. Winter better be a scorcher.
Like the repartee:)
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