On Thursday nights I'm single again. Andrew goes out to play poker and I moon around the flat, talking to myself and picking my nose. Sometimes I watch back-to-back episodes of Buffy. I always think about inviting someone over and then don't, in case they're busy. Last Thursday I did the hoovering. Just after nine o'clock my phone rang, and I skittered giddily into the bedroom to retrieve it, closely followed by the cat, both of us excited by the notion that someone might be calling over on a whim. But it was just the alarm to tell me that the five minutes were up and it was time to scrape the Immac from my chin.
I got in from work a little late yesterday evening. I paused at the door, wondering who Andrew was talking to. He finishes work at lunchtime on a Friday and I spend the last three hours of my working day wondering what he's up to and wishing I was there. I imagine all kinds of exciting things, though I should know better, as he usually pops up in my email chat to ask what I'd like for dinner. "Oh hai, Pussycat!" he said when I came in, looking around the room to see if we'd a visitor. "Don't mind me" Andrew said, looking embarrassed "I was just reading a thirty-year-old book by a dead New York Jew to the cat".
I got in from work a little late yesterday evening. I paused at the door, wondering who Andrew was talking to. He finishes work at lunchtime on a Friday and I spend the last three hours of my working day wondering what he's up to and wishing I was there. I imagine all kinds of exciting things, though I should know better, as he usually pops up in my email chat to ask what I'd like for dinner. "Oh hai, Pussycat!" he said when I came in, looking around the room to see if we'd a visitor. "Don't mind me" Andrew said, looking embarrassed "I was just reading a thirty-year-old book by a dead New York Jew to the cat".
17 comments:
Ok, I can give sage old lady advice on this one: start going out too - or do have people in. Really.
I'm all for women's evenings. I keep meaning to organise them and never have time to though (the task of cleaning my house for company always prohibits company).
But I read a nice article about it once, about how good it is to have female company, to have people ask you how you are and actually be able to tell them. There can be cocktails and cupcakes too, in my vision, at least. Possibly knitting.
oh dear, Jo. that's not what i meant to convey at all. don't worry, i don't lack for company, male or female, and i have an enquiring ear whenever i want one.
You and your husband are just the cutest things ever. :)
I talk to my cat sometimes as well, I like to call her my honey sometimes, I call my boyfriend my honey as well lol. I don't think he would be very happy about that :P
Reading your posts about married life make me happy and sad in equal measure.
I wonder if this can happen for everyone.
you'd hope so, Dublinista. still though, i feel very lucky. even when he lets a fart so bad in bed that my eyes water. i know that i can do likewise and he'll still fancy me.
YAY! ROMANCE!
A lovely night alone to watch Buffy episodes once a week? Sounds like heaven! *swoon*
Oh fuck, I just realised I cancelled on you on a Thursday night :(
Write something new please!
That is all.
(I know, I know. That's rich coming from me, I update like once a fortnight, but still. Write something new please!)
Trying, from the limited information available, to deduce what book the cat was getting. Leaning towards Blood and Guts in High School, by Kathy Acker.
Tim, you are being wildly misled by the inaccuracy of the information I provided to Rosie. The writer is, in fact, a Canadian Jew by way of Chicago. The book is also not a novel.
Were you reading Saul Bellow to Biscuit?
Erm...are you like my twin seperated at birth or my doppleganger or just called Rosie which isn't my real name either?
it pretty much is, Hermia. though heaven would have a tin full of biscuits.
i ended up working late anyway, Annie. so don't feel bad. feel sorry for me instead.
oh Karen. i'd love to. but i'm too busy.
he was indeed, Anon. bonus points for the name of the book?
is your mam's name Maureen, real-name-not-Rosie? (my real name's not Rosie either, but my nana and the fat dog that lives upstairs are both Rosies). curious. maybe you're my doppelganger.
So what are your plans for this evening?
see blog, Conan. and be sorry you asked.
or join the Rosie and Gimme Secret Chris de Burgh Fanclub. up to you.
Ah now.. too long now. Really enjoyed last one and have been hopefully dropping by.. I could send you a random unsolicited email from a stranger - but then, you'd only like that and maybe write less. Come on now.. chop chop, :-)
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