We did the party thing last weekend, and now that it’s Friday again – where did the week go? All I could do when I came home was to gather the dogs, the cat, the cactus, and the husband in a big pile in the sofa in front of the telly.
Okay, the cat immediately left the group mash-up, and went to some spot where he wasn’t so exposed to our emotional gushing. He tried to recover his composure through elegant aerobics on top of the window sill, by licking his own arse.
Mark stayed for about thirty seconds, until he patted me on the head and went back to whatever important thing he’d been doing when I rudely interrupted him. With a quick, sideways glance to check if I was actually all right, he left the sofa.
Only the dogs stayed in the mash-up. Of course, Watson licked my face, and knowing him, he would have done the same thing earlier that George the cat were doing at that moment. And he felt whatever had stuck on his tongue would be better placed on my chin.
I’m so glad it’s weekend, although I don’t know where the week went. It seems to have passed so quickly. Now it’s Friday, and two whole days where I don’t have to move from the sofa or the telly.
I feel like I should be lazy. I’m pretty tired. It’s two weeks until I don’t have to go back to London. It’s two weeks until I don’t have to spend at least two hours per day with my nose pressed into some commuter’s armpit in the morning rush. It’s two weeks until I can stay home and pretend that none of it is happening.
It’s going to be great!