I’m always in trouble, the only thing that varies is the depth. Or so I’ve been heard to say in the past.
I’m a night owl, always have been. I don’t like morning. I’m retired. Sarah isn’t, on both counts. Sarah has been developing her technique for engaging me in conversation before midday , and now expects me to join her for tea at stupid -o’clock. She wakes me at 7:10 most mornings and if I haven’t risen in short order continues check on me until I have. When I do stagger down stairs I’m presented with tea, OJ and for the last week or so a bowl of porridge1 So far so good. I am then engaged it small talk, discussions of national import, plans for the day and a myriad of family related topics. This morning’s topics included ‘what to get our D-in-L for her birthday (St Stephens Day), a decision on the former and a subsequent purchase2.
I’m struggling to hold onto reality and am sitting quietly whereupon I glance at this slabblet. This illicit’s a grumpy reaction vis ‘you obviously don’t want to talk to me’ and a flounce. The answer is obviously NOT ‘no, I want to be abed3 and asleep but I’ve just engaged in conversation and decisions for the past hour and a half’ neither is it to point out that she is unable to ignore her work email notification on her phone. This is hard won knowledge born of nearly 40 years cohabitation. I forgot, that sitting quietly is also an unacceptable response.
1. Not that I’m ungrateful, but 10 o’clock is a much more acceptable hour to partake of breaking ones fast.
2. Purchase of Christmas has always been my responsibility and birthdays.