Which is very good for a Sunday, methinks.
I went to bed at 11.45, yes, that bedtime is creeping later again. I started writing morning pages, then wandered off and skipped the rest of my morning routine. I just didn’t feel like it.
There was breakfast, this time the boy came downstairs first, before my husband. There was a lengthy discussion about the question whether the boy should wait with breakfast until tea was ready. He feels that waiting until it was ready and cool enough to drink wasn’t worth it, he just wants something to eat as fast as possible, whereas my husband and I think not having something warm and soothing with breakfast is barbaric. Well, that was an argument he and I have had hundreds of times in the past, so well.
My husband felt that the boy just wants to expend minimal energy at all times and just wants to drink tea when it’s all ready and done but would never make himself some. Which is a bit silly because the boy makes himself big pots of tea at least once a day, often twice and drinks all the black tea that’s left after my husband’s breakfast. (We are a tea in dedicated thermoses-family. Right now there are four tea thermoses in rotation, two for black tea, one for my chamomile tea and one for general herbal teas that the boy uses. The two for black tea are there to raise the chances that there is a free thermos for the black tea my husband makes for himself for breakfast.)
Anyways. I ate breakfast (with my own tea that I brew in my huge ceramic tea mug that no one else is allowed to touch) and then finished crocheting the first Flowerpress blanket square. After that I fixed a mistake that I made on the vest I’m knitting so that it could become TV knitting again, and then I finally took my shower.
I called my mother on the phone who finally is back from that physical rehabilitation thing that she didn’t like at all. But now she doesn’t feel all that well, poor thing. We told each other everything we had done in the two weeks since our last call and I especially talked about our trip to Leipzig.
Then I girted my loins and started printing out all the emails about the shoe return disaster. I waffled all day if I should make that phone call on a Sunday but ultimately decided against it. The plan is to do it today. Wish me luck.
Meanwhile my husband was making pesto from scratch. His first step was to let the pine nuts get burnt, so we ended up having half pine nuts and half almonds in our pesto. I did help a little with the basil and cheese. The boy came downstairs for lunch again. There was a bit too much salt in the pasta, alas, but otherwise it was very good:
The boy and I talked at length after that, I played silly games for a long while, we ate some cake and drank some tea, I sat, played and read for a while, my husband showed up three times to ask me something or tell me about something, I wrote messages to all kinds of people, washed a load of wool things, folded two loads of laundry and started a second one (that my husband hung up), spread the mystery shawl and the gauge swatch out on the unused bed, decided against actually blocking the shawl with pins or wires, bought a couple new books (again), did bodyweight training on my own because the boy was too busy, tried watching a lecture about something writing related but got rather bored, listened to some wonderful Buxtehude and also to „And the Bridge is Love“ by Howard Goodall which moved me deeply.
Then I wrote this post, planned out the week, found that I was still way too braindead to write the cover feedback, watched an episode of C-drama while knitting and went to bed.
Phew.
And now for a new week, soon to be a new month.
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