Saturday, 14 January 2012
Loft and found
In the evening I challenged Bud to my new boardgame, based on games I have met so far. It's a little rough'n'ready and is only the first iteration. He won but it's just down to the roll of the die. Due to the way I've drawn it, there are difficulties (am I on this square or that, is it a yellow or orange square) so we undertook to redraw it in new and interesting colours and shapes. We'd got 30% through it when Jof finally stopped hoovering angrily and challenged us to monopoly. We got an hour into it before we realised we hadn't eaten so they argued with various curry takeaways (what do you mean, an hour's wait for food, I thought there was a recession on) then she bought one from Tesco. By the time it got to bath fizzer night, it was too late to start so I had a quick shower. This is when problems started.
Quality time: the rantAt drying time, he's kneeling down holding the towel like a toreador, hoping to envelop and dry me. I roar a lot, charge him repeatedly like a bullish (yet bare) conquistador and try to knock him over. This is pretty well the same as every other night of the week but after a bottle of red I've got a decent chance of flooring him. Soon I was laughing so much I got hiccups. This makes him incapable with mirth which only makes me worse (and more aggressive) and him more vulnerable. Within no time, we were both gurgling and hiccuping and dribbling while I pounded him against the cupboard. This is when Jof came in and berated us for being so happy. Women the world over will complain about lack of quality time spent with the kids but to us - it's different. If one of us isn't busy trying not to poo himself while the other is busy trying not to vomit because we're laughing so much - then it's time not worth having.
I'm a regular jack in the box / in my birthday suit and hippy locks