Sunday Morning, 10am
Ok, so it's really 10:28am as I begin typing this, but if I wrote the time accurately it would be an even bigger distortion of the Paul Simon song title “Wednesday Morning, 3am”. Of course most of the reason for the rubbish title is I have nothing specific to write about this morningI'm not going to let that stop me though.
I scraped myself out of bed a little after 9, jumped in the shower, and then had a shave, transferred last night's washing from the machine to the dryer,filled the washing machine back up and switched it on, cleared the washing up in the kitchen (how doesthe sink always fill itself overnight?), fed the fish, fed the cats, cleaned the coffee machine, and folded the heap of clothes in the kitchen. Pretty normal morning really.
The cats amuse me on a morningthey sit quietly outside the bathroom door while I have a shower and shave. When I open the door they look up at me, like it's a chance meetinglike the chance meeting a group of Mafioso might have with a mark. While I pour their food into their bowls they stretch up the kitchen worktop next to me.
My other half just appeared, and has been talked into making pancakes for the younger children. Miraculously, the draw of pancakes for breakfast defeats the Wii Uthey have left everything switched on, and are now “helping” in the kitchen.
There is no sign of Miss 15 yet. No doubt she will appear at lunchtime, “Zathura older sister style”, and cause a huge argument over homework she hasn't done, and doesn't know how to do (read: want's somebody else to do it for her).
I could do with another coffee.