More Winter Madness

Still suffering from A Cold. Here's what I have done today:

  • Slept well past noon;
  • Cycled into town to deliver clean trousers to The Man, who got his muddy this morning whilst chasing a dog (who was chasing a chicken) through a country garden;
  • Cycled home and collapsed on the sofa feeling sorry for myself;
  • Heated up some canned soup for lunch;
  • Watched many episodes of this seasons' Spooks even though I've already seen them because a) I can't be bothered to find something new on television that actually interests me and because b) as the Guardian's "Chart of Lust" rightly pointed out recently, women everywhere are developing an obsession with Richard Armitage, and his nose, and the absurdly cool spy he plays. I've got a cold and midwinter angst; I'm allowed a small celebrity crush. Deal with it.
  • Realized that the show called MI5 that I used to watch back in the days when my parents had a TV and I was trying to avoid my AP calculus homework is, in fact, simply Spooks re-named for an American audience;
  • Had a long bath whilst listening to Classic FM's Smooth Classics at 6; "your relaxation station." Considered being embarrassed by this; thought better of it;
  • Made something that resembled dinner out of pasta, half an onion, a huge clove of garlic, a carrot, and some cheese. Neglected to clear anything up after;
  • Wondered if all this time alone in the house is making me a little crazy;
  • Listened to the same Goo Goo Dolls song about twelve times in a row whilst perusing
  • Decided that I am definitely going a little crazy.

Note the absence of having got any work done. Or, for that matter, any Christmas shopping. I keep thinking that I'll start feeling really Christmas-y soon and start looking forward to my favourite holiday with fresh zeal, but for some reason every time I think about it all that happens is that I get unnaturally exited for the fact that I'll have a whole week off work. I want to be able to sleep in with my love and wake up and have bacon and eggs, and mungle around the house with neither of us having to go to work, or get work done; it's the prospect of that which excites me.