I’m so emotional
There is a lot of satisfaction in doing nothing. Especially when there’s a lot to be done. And it’s all not to one’s liking.
I want nothing more than to go home and stare my cheery-hued walls and slouch on my couch, sip an iced peppermint tea, talk to Wdgehead and listen to Rod on the radio. To go cycling downstairs, to eat a huge serving of fish and chips, to think of funny school plays and to take a good dump in the toilet.
We do not give enough credit, prominence and quality to freetime. Most of us are so knackered that we spend the holidays sleeping. Or we go for overseas trips that exhaust us further. I say we should have a proper 9-5 5day workweek with no extra burdens. That would make me very happy. Look at my poor beloved being worked till his hair falls off, his michevious eyes lose their sparkle, the flesh falls off his bones and the positivity gets deflated.
I like him best when he’s salivating over a good steak, stuffing fries into his mouth, telling a lame story that I pretend to find lame and unfunny, giving my bum a squeeze as we stand at the back of a lift, calling me his baby, hard at work with his strong, clever and gentle hands, holding me so close i meld into him when we sleep, making a Babo-impersonation, relating some weird and wondrous fact of nature to me…in other words, when he’s relaxed and happy.
Much as I wish that I didn’t have to go back to work tomorrow, today my wish is that my Bubu can be his Mr Smiley self again sooner rather than later.
