I am feeling refreshed after a good day’s sleep.
We woke up, inexplicably, at about nine this morning, and after some unsuccessful attempts to go back to sleep, got up and made coffee.
Perhaps, in the interests of strict honesty, I should rephrase that.
I woke up early because I needed to make an untimely visit to the bathroom. This is the sort of thing that happens when you reach old age, note to young people, enjoy your bathroom free life whilst you still can. Why people in their fifties need to wee so often is completely beyond me, it is worse than being a toddler.
Once I had got back into bed I curled up against Mark to warm up again, obviously this is the point of having a husband.
He was woken up by the presence of an icy fidgeting person pressed up against his back, and then he realised that he needed to make an elderly person bathroom visit as well.
The dogs woke up then. They didn’t seem especially interested in visiting their special bathroom in the garden, but we chucked them out anyway, since accidents on the carpets are upsetting for everybody, especially Roger Poopy if somebody stands in one.
After that there was no point in trying to rediscover oblivion. Mark filled the house with warm coffee smells, and I investigated the computer to see if there was anybody requiring our immediate attention. People wanting money do not come into this category. Those are the people requiring very delayed attention, usually until they start to issue threats. I am pleased to add that there was nobody like that on the computer this morning.
Once we were all suitably empty and then pleasantly refilled with coffee the day could begin.
Mark was taking bits of the garden sheds apart in order to create storage space for the tools and things that would have to come back to our house when he finally abandons his shed.
Regrettably, this means that our lovely garden bench has got to go.
This is not as sad as it sounds, because the only person who ever sits on the garden bench is the lodger, who smokes. She is allowed to smoke there and I hardly mention the horrid cigarette smell in the dustbin at all, which I think is jolly nice of me.
Mark and I don’t need to sit there because we don’t smoke. Apart from that we never have time and also because it is always raining, except when it is too cold. I like the idea of having a bench in the garden, but the problem is that I lack opportunities to sit on it with a large glass of red wine and a good book. We have not sat on it since my parents visited us last July, which does not, we decided, constitute frequent use.
We decided that the poor lodger could probably manage with the doorstep and an umbrella, and so today Mark took the bench to bits and then hosed the mud off the blackened path.
When he had finished the garden was so sodden that the mud was squelching between my toes when I hung the washing out. I didn’t feel any regret at all about the bench. It was so wet in the garden that a couple of ducks would not have looked out of place.
After that we went back to bed, which is another old people thing to do in the afternoon.
We stayed in bed until it was time to get up and visit the bathroom again.
After that we went to work.
