There’s a point in one’s life where staying home on a Friday to decompress and tidy instead of going out just feels right. I’ve hit my carlsberg years (unfortunately Youtube is not forthcoming with that great Carlsberg ad of a couple making out. They’re all hot, sweaty, all over each other, trying to get into their hotel room with the voice over ‘Someone once told me that the hottest sex I’d ever have would be with my wife’ and the camera cuts to the couple making out on the bed, grainy film and all and pans to a bottle of Carlesberg beer. Cue voice over “and they were right.” New voice: Welcome to your Carlsberg years). Anyway, I’m there, and its not so bad.
Cats and Laps and laptops
We’re cat-sitting the BIL’s little cat Jitters til he and the excellent J are able to move to something larger eventually. Right now I have a purring cat on my lap, slowly squeezing my macbook to the precipice of my knees, all while purring madly. There’s jazz coming from iTunes and I’m not sure if life could get better at the moment. Except maybe for another cup of coffee.