Today I am my own spirit animal
I had a gross taste in my mouth just now and ate one of the little chocolate donuts in the box on the kitchen table to get rid of it. They were half price and 2 for 1, which means we have also have a box of plain little donuts on the kitchen table. This means that I grocery-shopped recently while under the unholy trinity of hungry, cranky and premenstrual. This also means that I am someone who uses a little chocolate donut as a palate cleanser without even thinking about it.
I spent today hanging out with Nick and his mom, who took a train into town all the way from Lower Duckling especially to see us. I really like Nick's mom, probably because in a lot of ways she’s very similar to her son. We had lunch, then came back to the house and spent the afternoon gossiping while it rained outside. A cat sat on my lap. We ate fruit tarts and drank tea. They are going to make me English if I stay here much longer.
Nick took his mom to her train and headed to work, and I have an evening ahead of me of switching between the two books I’m reading and doing my crossword puzzles from my favorite crossword puzzle book with my special crossword puzzle pen. Hey, seven year old me who used to get grounded from going to the library, and got excited when it was rainy because it made it easier to pretend you lived in the first chapters of the Narnia books, before they actually get sent to Narnia: things are going to work out in our favor.
Sarah's so boring now
Sexy errands accomplished today:
1) Buying Nick an ear candle. I’m usually the one who’s half-deaf, but Nick recently got some water trapped in his ear and can’t hear a damn thing. Add to this the fact that we both mumble quickly, and we spent our entire afternoon out saying, “What? Huh? Say it again? No, I’m not being a dick, I didn’t hear you.” Finally we broke down and did something about it because the best part of being out together on a weekend is making snarky comments under our breath about people next to us, and you can’t shout I SAID DID YOU SEE THAT WEIRD LOOKING BABY? more than once at the same bus stop.
2) Buying Nick some socks. Nick has lots of socks, but apparently only one pair that are the right kind, and the minute those are dirty he moans, “Where are my socks?” and I say, “You have a drawer full, ” and he says, “But none of them are good ones.” And then I’ll say, “Do you want me to buy you some socks?” and he says no. So
(Yes, I realize I’m writing about this kind of crap now. Sorry, man. I’m not going to write about the sex, so I guess you get to hear about the socks. I promise I’m not going to start recommending appliances or giving away jeans or Nintendos or breeding anytime soon.)
so today we walked into some cheap sporting goods store and they had the elusive magic socks and we bought a giant pack of them. And then we walked out the door and I said, cheerfully and in complete seriousness, “Well, I’m glad we finally got you some socks,” and then I said, “Oh my god. Did you hear what I just said? I am in a place in my life where I’m really glad that we finally got you some socks.” Then we went home and had amazing sex, the end. Actually we didn’t, we had it before we went out, but I’m not writing about the sex, am I. Lucky you!
For the next few weeks, we’re housesitting for friends in North London. This is the longest amount of time in our relationship that we’ve had an entire house all to ourselves. We’ve been very lucky to stay with very lovely people since we’ve been in London, but an entire house! To ourselves! We were possibly more excited about this than we were about our trip to Spain. And the wifi keeps going out, sometimes for entire days at a time! Usually this would make me want to kill someone, but if it dovetails with Nick being off work and my cell phone being dead like it did yesterday, this is the best poor person/crazy in love vacation ever. In fact, the wifi is still out now! I’m posting this from a cafe around the corner, where we came to get coffee, in the middle of the day, like decadent people! I can’t stop using exclamation points!
I am fine with the fact that our friends’ wifi being crap is the closest we’re going to get to a secluded cabin with a fireplace and bearskin rug. They have a record player and a tea kettle and that’s really all we need. I don’t have to tell you that this combination of personal time and no distractions lends itself to making all kinds of fantasies come true, like reenacting the Bayeaux Tapestry, or watching No Way Out at 1 am while eating cupcakes from Tesco. This is our dream, and we are living it.
Life hacks I can pass on to any potential future offspring
- Put your nectarines in a brown paper bag to ripen them
- Rinse your hair with cold water to make it shinier
- Never take Tylenol while you’re still drunk
- Eliminate stubborn sticky price tag sediments with nail polish remover
- Peeing after sex helps prevent UTIs
- You can get red wine out of white cloth with an old dish towel and an iron
- Always take off your shoes during a long flight
- Flossing regularly can prevent arterial obstruction
- Never click on the last picture in an Us Magazine slide show, it’s just an ad
Mrs. Posy-Porridge Crosses the Yakuza And So the Badgers Must Live in the Orphanage Until They're Old Enough to Work at the Factory
At the moment we’re staying with Ian and helping him look after Esme and Oscar while Antonia has a very well-deserved long weekend away. I’ve been reading to Esme from The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter, which is all just a bunch of stories about animals in waistcoats telling each other they’re being naughty. They’re all named Jemima Pattywhack and Mother Tiddlewicket and Mr. Alderman Hearthrug Oilcloth, and they’re all talking about things that I couldn’t draw or define, like bobbits and bolsters and Sago. There’s a story about two naughty mice (The Tale of Two Bad Mice), a story about a naughty rabbit (Peter Rabbit), and then a story about a seriously naughty rabbit because some wiseass kid Beatrix Potter knew didn’t think Peter Rabbit was naughty enough (The Story of a Fierce Bad Rabbit). That rabbit gets shot by a man with a gun. There’s a picture and everything. Esme had me read that one to her thirteen times in a row and lingered on the charming drawing of the rabbit getting shot every time.
Recently I overheard a mother in an airport ask her three year old if he wanted to get on the plane. Woman, you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of misery. Why are you asking him what he wants like he gets a vote? Did he book those tickets? Let’s go back to the time of eat or be eaten and serious consequences, a time when childhood was an ailment treated with tight shoes and castor oil. Victorian England, fuck yeah!
Free thesis idea
Chris and Helena and Nick and I watched this documentary last night.
I wonder if there’s ever been a study comparing the number of women who wore tiaras on their wedding day to how long those marriages last.