It’s snowing. Dan came home last night beaming; he had managed to not only take to skiing like a duck to water but got unsolicited praise, “Are you sure you haven’t skied before?” and, “You look athletic.” Dan was a fat kid and was never called athletic. I was disappointed to have missed the experience but I had managed to get done all the spreadsheet data calculations, charting, and creating a summary spreadsheet that I had blanked out the entire weekend to do. This gave me time to both sleep in and sleep all afternoon, which I would have thought would have helped my body get over a sore throat but it wasn’t enough. It’s almost gone though, enough to not be a distraction.
Our neighbours returned from their Christmas break over night. As their fridge is bare and it’s Sunday morning I invited them over for breakfast. When we entertain Daniel usually takes the role of host and does all the planning, cooking, cleaning and, just like his Mum, tells everybody else what to do. Today I started cooking and preparing everything at 08:30. “They’re not coming until ten!” Dan exclaimed. I had it all planned. We only have limited numbers of saucepans. I had bubble & squeak to cook, then sausages from the local butcher on Church St, then I needed the space to fry eggs. “Who’s cooking? Me!”
It’s time for a break to dance around the apartment to Katy Perry, as Dan called my Massive Attack tracks, “Wrist-slashing suicidal music.” Fine. Extremely loud pop music it is.