There's not much I like better than waking up late on a winter Sunday morning without a hangover. I squirm around in my own body heat, letting in little cold blasts of air just for the pleasure of warming them up. Then I stretch out and consider my options. Will it be a bath with sandalwood oil? Shall I lie here and read a bit more of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell? Shall I get up and do something useful?
This last option always seems to be a waste of time that should be savoured, so I read for a bit, do some thinking, offer thanks for the blessing of a boyfriend who brings me coffee on such mornings, and generally keep the cruel world at bay for as long as possible. Which is until I start to feel ashamed of myself for not getting up, so then I do.
Unlike hungover Sunday afternoons, which tend to be spent prone on the sofa with the Observer trying to combat feelings of self-loathing, non-hungover Sunday afternoons are a joy. I went to the tip! I bought bird food from the garden centre! I did some online Christmas shopping! I tidied my bedroom! And the living room! I made lots of coffee for M, who is painting his new room! I had a shower because I was too busy to have a bath!
Finally, I made a winter vegetable stew with a red wine sauce, which is bubbling away in the oven waiting for A, A and L to come over and help us eat it.
Sometimes I feel like a functioning adult.
joella
1 comment:
A, A + L?
YOu weren't expecting us last night were you? L and I are assuming you mean another A + L and that we haven't both had invitation amnesia!
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