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I woke up this morning and hobbled to the toilet. Last night, when I went to bed, the kitchen was a total disaster area. On my way to the loo, I realised that the dishwasher was on. Looking around a bit closer, it was as if the Heinzelmännchen had been hard at work. Luckily, I hadn’t spilled any peas.
There was a lovely, soft yellow light still hanging from the ceiling, casting a Bethlehemic glow over the peaceful room. I half expected to see a baby Jesus atop the table, surrounded by straw and cow manure.
When I woke up, properly, at an unprecedented 08:40, I found my walking was a hell of lot worse. It was very difficult carrying my coffee back to bed. In fact, it was so bad, that Mirinda declared that I would be confined to the lounge for the day, resting the swelling in my right sock.
And so, this was my view for the vast majority of the day.
Mirinda and Jason went off to ICA then for a walk. Jason made his excellent pie for dinner. I remained miserable.
By the way, the mysterious kitchen fairy was Mirinda who, finding she couldn’t sleep, got up and did a wonderful job returning my kitchen to something usable.
