...or at least that's my excuse and I am sticking to it. Needless to say there would have been a wondrous post in this very spot 12 hours ago had I a) remembered to save as draft periodically and b) if I hadn't ballsed it up. Oh well.
[well bugger me, I just saw that "recover post" icon on my edit screen...I wonder if that would have...? No, I wont torment myself with the thought.]
So yesterday was my first day off - no work, no overtime and no demands on my time. It was truly luxurious to be able to lounge in bed, waking up without the alarm clock screeching in my ear. My feline alarm clock however was persistent. She didn't care what day of the week it was - all that mattered was her dish was empty. She doesn't miaow disdainfully at me, on the contrary she has learned that if she wants something the best method is to be overly affectionate. (A true female in every sense of the word). She has developed a habit of walking across the top of my pillow, purring loudly and nuzzling. This whole nuzzling thing is very new behaviour for her, but she seems to have developed a thing for my hair and will nuzzle her whole head against mine, pressing her furry face into my hair for extended periods of time. Purring non-stop. I have taken it as a sign of affection. The first time the boy saw her do it, he suggested it was a failed homicide attempt. With a wicked grin, he told her that she just needed to move her entire body 6 inches lower. Brat!
First stop of the morning was to pick up a few groceries. I had stubbornly refused to make a list, as usual, my habit of phoning home from the middle of the cereal aisle to check on our need for certain items was of no use seeing as the boy was at work...so this time I had to rely entirely on memory. This may explain why we now have duplicate jars of unopened jam, no fresh kitty litter and we're almost out of peanut butter. Guess I will be hitting the store again today.
Next stop was the builders to pick up my copy of the signed amendment to the purchase agreement - which in turn was dropped off at the lawyer's office. I took the time to pick up forms for a Will and Power of Attorney whilst I was there. Something I have procrastinated over for more years than I care to remember. I guess we are all in denial when it comes to our own mortality. We feel we are as bulletproof as the 9 year old wearing the Superman cape standing on the shed roof. Hindsight is 20/20 and I can see how irresponsible it was of me, as a single mum, to not have had a Will in place all these years. Better late than never, it looks like I may finally be growing up.
Home via Blockbuster, I picked up "Take the Lead" with the very yummy Antonio Banderas - and home to prepare dinner.
Here we come to the interesting part. Ballroom dancing and cooking - two things I am unable to do (or do well) and two things I am actually signing up for classes for. This past Monday I registered for a 10 week class for ballroom. It's something I have long had an interest in - and never had the time or nerve to pursue (long story I will save for a future blog), suffice to say come mid-September you will all be treated to weekly updates on my progress (or lack thereof) in the waltz, quickstep, tango and swing. As far as cooking is concerned...well all I can say is that I used to be quite good in the kitchen. Passed my O'level in Home Economics, used to make everything from scratch, pastries, cakes, soups, you name it. It seems however to be a skill that hasn't aged well. Years of convenience meals that go from the freezer to the oven to the table in under 45 minutes (curse you frozen lasagne) have dulled my culinary artistic bent shall we say. Suffice to say, this evening's meatloaf, lovingly prepared from scratch wasn't exactly burnt, but it did have some interestingly crunchy bits. My local grocery superstore runs evening cooking classes covering everything from Italian to French cuisine. Now I am not suggesting that with these courses I am about to become the next Ginger Rogers or Delia Smith, but it gets me out of the house, meeting new people (new people who are also lousy cooks with two left feet), and it's something I am interested in.
The boy - obviously equipped with "OMG Mother is cooking" radar - called home to advise me that he was heading out straight after work to help a friend move apartments - and would probably "grab a bite" whilst he was out. That's fine, the left-overs are in the fridge in case he needs something to crunch on later - thankfully he has a dental plan.