Wednesday, December 14, 2005

hoppit

I’m not a good partner. I’m grumpy and removed and not at all tactile. I frown and always have a better idea. I am not lightheartedly, quirkily, desirably at ease with my inability to keep a house clean or tidy. I do not use sex as a release from stress or a rumpshuss celebration of being together; rather, my libido is safely packed in three layers of bubble wrap until the day we land on a clean beach, with plenty of food, a promise of eternal good health for our children, a pleasantly appointed house where shore meets forest, which needs no repair or repainting, and no council tax bills. And no people. I am as prickly as an October conker shell.

I am solitary at heart. My superpower is a reddybrek glow of partner repellent ninety-eight point seven percent of the time, day or night.

But I do like the short phonecalls, the three word texts of abbreviated interest and concern. In Standard English only, please. I rely on them as lilypads across Monday to Friday.

And when it’s gone sixteen hours without a ring or a bleep from our capital city, I get a smidge unsettled. And glower from under my rock.


eta: ta


Things To Do

Cake: Soak fruit in booze; chuck all the stuff together and cook; voodoo with more booze; marzipan; ice; eat.
Pressies: buy; wrap; distribute (wearing stiff gauntlet to save fingers). addendum: forget to give Suffolk ones to mum when she visits.
Pressies from kids: buy; make; wrap; post / give out.
Cards: buy / make; give out / post.
Decorations: consider putting up; put up; take down.
Christmas dinner: yeah, right.
Booze: buy; drink; buy; drink; be bought; drink; buy; drink; buy; drink; scrounge; drink; drink; drink; drink; buy; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink; drink (list in progress).

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