Single Handed
I'm sailing the ship single handed this weekend – my other half is taking our youngest daughter to France to watch the England ladies football team play in the World Cup. They will be up at 4am tomorrow for a 7am flight. I'm going to try and have a quiet weekend for a change.
I still haven't touched any alcohol since last Friday evening. To be honest, I hadn't really thought of it until just now. A part of me thinks that sitting with a glass of wine might be nice, but the dogmatic, stubborn so and so inside me is busy shouting “don't you dare – you've done a week – lets see if we can do a month”. It will surprise nobody that my other half won a box of wine on a raffle – because of course she did.
Rain is falling steadily outside in the darkness (it just turned midnight) – I suppose at least the grass will be nice and green. I should really go and look for our little black cat to see if he wants to come in. He's too scared to use the cat-flap unless cornered into doing so.
(5 minutes pass)
I just stood in the back doorway looking out into the darkness for him – no sign at all. It's no real surprise that he keeps himself to himself – he grew up wild, and then spent the better part of a year in a cat rescue facility. Sometimes he lets you stroke him while eating, but rarely if ever approaches you for a fuss. I suppose you could say he tolerates you when he feels so inclined.
Anyway... it's getting late. I'll probably get up with the rest of the lunatics in the morning and stay up after they have left for the airport. You never know – having some time to myself might actually result in some half decent blog posts for a change.