Call me spoilt, but I do begrudge having to do housework after 9pm. However, Bertha is a bit off-colour, so I had to bring in Jim, the other hoover, who needs someone to push him round. And then the kitchen floor won't mop itself (if only). I'm feeling a bit martyrish about it all. If Hubby were here he'd cheer me up. When I was mowing the lawn this weekend (I know, mowing, it's the first time ever) he said he quite fancied me. Must be a bit of a Felicity Kendall thing - too many episodes of 'The Good Life' during his formative years perhaps - or possibly because I am a lawn mowing virgin, and the surprising thought of me being virginal at anything made him see me in a whole new light. To be honest I saw myself in a new light. Or at least I did for about forty minutes, until I cut my finger when pulling the string-thing to start the engine, and gave up and went back inside. For a cup of tea and a flapjack.
I suppose the other thing to be said for all this tedious mowing/hoovering/mopping stuff (apart from enflaming the loins of my husband) is that it burns calories, which has to be a good thing, doesn't it? Yes, I'm doing the fasting day again today, and apart from the inevitable grumpiness between five and eight pm, it's not been too bad, really. The jury is out as to whether the new regime is working though, because Hubby decided this weekend that our bathroom scales are broken. He replaced them with new ones that make me two kilos heavier. Do I go with the old scales and rejoice, even though I secretly know they don't work properly, or do I start noting down my weight on the new ones and get depressed as I'm far more of a lard-arse than I realised? Not sure. Might just give up on weighing completely and go back to hanging about in the ice cream aisle at Tesco when I want to feel slim and lovely. Yes, that does work. Apparently people here in the East Midlands are the most obese in England (it said so on the Gem 106 news this evening, so it must be true), and, judging by our local Tesco there is some truth to that statistic. So if you happen to see me loitering near the Ben & Jerry's it's only because our bathroom scales are unreliable, honest.
Hmmm, so there were some other things I've been meaning to tell you, but to be honest all I can think about at the moment is the night out at the curry house we have booked for Saturday night. I haven't been out for a meal with my husband for ages and ages and I haven't had a decent curry for ages either. I'm thinking possibly lamb bhuna, bhajis, mango chutney, mint raita, and a naan bread big enough to double up as a spare mattress, all washed down with a nice pint, because the curry place is close enough to walk to. Cannot blooming wait!
Right, better go to bed because I've got an illegal wartime abortion to write about tomorrow (up to eighty six thousand words now, and it's all getting quite serious), which I won't be up to if I'm fuzzy headed from staying up all night writing to you about the delights of asian cuisine.
Night then xxx