i was watching a really cheesy chick flick the other night and there was the “next morning” scene.  you know, the one where the couple wakes up still in spoon position,  holding each other,  looking so comfortable.  p-lease. 

spooning before you both fall asleep is all good.  but once one or both of you fall asleep,  it all just goes to hell. 

if you’re in the spoonee position and the spooner falls asleep before you,  they become dead weight,  breathing (and maybe snoring) in close proximity to your ears.  and let’s face it, it gets hot.  i hate being hot while i sleep.  being the spoonee also can leave you at a disadvantage for bed space if spooning is done on your side of the bed.  once the spooner falls asleep, good luck trying to roll him back to his side.

the spooner position,  while having the advantage of not having to endure snoring and hot breath near one’s ears or neck,  it’s still pretty uncomfortable.  when i’m laying on my side,  i never know what to do with the arm i’m laying on…it all of a sudden becomes a spare appendage that has no use and gets in the way and at some point, after being the spoonee for too long,  my arm gets numb and feels like a Gumby arm. 

i’m all for spooning before falling asleep, but as soon as one of us starts to drop off,  it’s time to move to your own side of the bed.  not very romantic,  but hey,  them are the rules.

i was talking to a co-worker yesterday and she ended up telling me about a huge barney she had with her boy the other night. i was dismayed that our conversation has led down the path of more intimate details.  i hardly talk to the girl and i would rather have kept the conversation to the weather and how i’m settling in australia.  oh well,  too late.  so she’s going on and on,  i’m vigourously stirring my coffee, occassionally nodding my head but i keep stirring, looking straight into my cup,  thinking that if i stir hard enough, it’ll make her disappear.  i’m lost in thoughts of how to exit this conversation “yeah, that sucks.  well,  see you later” / “dump him. back to work!” / “i think that’s my phone ringing” / “i speaka no good english.”  finally, shes’ done talking, and she says to me “i mean, you know what it’s like right?”  i should say “yes i do,”  pat her reassuringly on the arm and walk away.  but no, i don’t know what it’s like. so i said “well,  actually,  we don’t fight.”
“don’t fight a lot, or don’t fight ever?”
“don’t fight ever.  i dunno,  we just don’t fight.”
“that’s not normal.  i mean,  you’re not perfect. surely you’ve done something or he’s done something that riled you up.”
(oooh, touche!  flashbacks of tandoori chicken incident from a couple of weeks ago – but wait,  the Brit didn’t get mad.  he just waited for it to pass and offered to go out and get me my damn chicken)
“i have my moments.  but we don’t fight.”
“that’s totally not normal.  if you’re in a healthy relationship,  you fight so you know each other’s opinions and where you stand on issues.  if you don’t fight,  you’re afraid of something and fear is not healthy.  i go to a counselor and that’s what they tell me.  i don’t believe you don’t fight.  you’re so weird.”

and with that,  she smiled at me and patted me on the arm like i’m the one that needed reassuring and walked back to her desk.  wtf?  i know i’ve talked about this before,  but this is the first time someone has actually told me that we’re not normal.  the Brit and i talk,  we have debates, and we certainly don’t agree on everything but we’ve never fought.  hey, i’ve even tried to pick fights with him.  i prefer not to fight.  my voice gets all high pitched and i start to cry and act PSYCHO.  so i avoid it at all costs.  i don’t think the Brit has a mean bone in his body.  seriously,  he is SO nice.  everyone tells me how nice he is.  he makes me feel like an asshole sometimes – that’s how nice he is (right, i know, doesn’t take much to make me feel like an asshole).  and as long as he can put up with me and wants to stay married to me,  then i know i’ve got it pretty damn good. 

yesterday we got home from our holiday.  2 hours of trains and lugging our crap around.  as soon as we get home,  what do i do?  change into my pajamas and plop down in front of the TV.  what does the Brit do?  cleans the bathroom.

it’s like he has cleaning withdrawls. the only withdrawl symptoms i get are when i go for longer than 12 hours in clothes other than my pajamas.

i’m thinking about my overall crapness in the area of “wifely duties” and i figured i’d share with you. it may make my last post even more profound.

i fake make the bed.  i just smooth the sheets out and fling the duvet on top and sort of arrange the pillows.  we’re going to mess it up later anyway.  the Brit actually makes the bed – you know,  taking the pillows off, pulling the sheets up and making sure they are even and taut and then pulling up the duvet and folding the sheets over and fluffing the pillows… bah! i don’t have time for that.

sometimes, when i’m really lazy,  i use the dishwasher.  we hardly ever use it because there is just two of us.  but when i get home from work,  finish my workout and look at the pile of dishes from the night before, i just can’t be bothered and i put them in the dishwasher.  they are clean, dried and put away before the Brit gets home from work.  I get praise for being so good.  it’s a win-win situation if you ask me.

i don’t clean bathrooms.  ewww. gross.  that’s a boy’s job (and thankfully, the Brit recognises this and makes it part of his boy chores).

i think i’ve already talked about how i “do the ironing“

the Brit is in charge of grocery shopping because i cannot be trusted.  if left with me,  our cupboards would be full of cereal, french fries, cake mix and cookies.

when doing a load of laundry,  i actually have to call the Brit to ask him how to work the washing machine.

see what i mean?  and he puts up with it.  that is because i am the best in so many other ways.  i remind him of that every time he’s putting my neatly folded laundry away.

i think i should be sitting at home right now, curled up in a blanket (or not because it’s hot), eating ice cream and watching the Oscars.  but noooo, i’m at work. i just got back from the cafe where i picked up a juice and upon opening it and taking a sip, i realised that it had gone funny.  it has a fermented taste to it which leaves me to wonder if drinking it will make me drunk which sounds appealing.  I have decided against it because (a) i don’t want to be a lush; and (b) i don’t want it to go horribly wrong and i spend the afternoon with an upset tummy.

sh!t, just looked at the time.  i have a meeting now…

… yes and i’m back.  pointless.  my doodles are getting better though. i drew a picture of a dragon today.  i autographed it and gave it to a colleague.  when i’m dead, he can sell it for millions. where was i?

ah yes, mondays.  the weekend was nice and uneventful which is how i like it.  we went to the pub on friday and had some bad-for-you dinner and not-so-good-for-you beer.  it was lovely.  and then back to ours for… a cup of tea.  yes my friends, we capped off a late night (10pm) with a cup of tea. we are getting old!

saturday we lazed around, watched an opera.  if you’re curious about opera and might want to try it out,  try to see “elisir d’amour” with pavarotti and kathleen battle from 1991 – amazing. hmm, then  i took a nap and then we watched a movie.  sunday we did the same (except the Brit did house chores – not me).  do you notice a repeating pattern with our weekends?  i don’t mind it so much.  i guess if i were looking at our life from the outisde, i may think “sheesh, they’re boring.  does she own anything besides pajamas?” but i love our life and as long as i get to spend it with the Brit, i’m happy.  hmm, there seems to be no segue to my next topic from that unexpected touching moment…

Lent. Yep, it’s that time of year again.  the only Catholic thing i still do (i don’t count celebrating christmas).  It’s that guilt thing that Catholics are so good at.  whoever went to hell for eating a hamburger on a Friday?  sounds silly i know.  but that’s how it was positioned in my years (and years) of catholic upbringing.  do this or else!  well, i’m not going to take my chances!  no siree!  so each year i give up animal products.  no meat, no dairy, no eggs.  nuthin’.  forty days. (side note-  how come the word “forty” doesn’t have a “u” in it but “four” does?).  starting on wednesday.  i have allowed one day of cheating – march 21st.  the Brit and I are going to the Flower Drum for annivesary dinner and there’s no way i’m missing out. but seriously,  i had no idea how many things had eggs or milk in it until i gave it up.  i’ll pretty much be eating berries and leaves.  it’s not so bad.  it’ll be fine.  but believe me,  i’m going animal product crazy today and tomorrow.  i had a bit of butter on my toast this morning and i don’t even have buttered toast ever!  extra milk in my coffee,  bacon in my sandwich for lunch…  i may have ice cream for dinner followed by a steak for dessert (or the other way around).

and that’s all my news.  trust me, it’ll get more interesting when i’m vegan.  the grouchiness will be upped a few notches and my posts may start to get a slightly more vitriolic.  but you never know. i have the Brit to balance me out. Hope you all had a perfect weekend.

i’m blog crazy today.  that’s because i’m bored out of my skull and i’m trying desparately to avoid work.  the sound of typing always implies that you’re busy – that’s my belief.

it’s 3.30pm and i’ve been thinking about home time now since noon. last night i recorded “27 dresses” on the DVR and i’m contemplating whether it’d be mean of me to make the Brit sit there and watch it with me.  i know he’ll try to find something else to do – some ironing that needs to be done,  dishes that need to be washed.  i made him suffer through ”the wedding planner” a few weeks ago – hmm, we both suffered through that one and i immediately apologised after.  i actually think he secretly loves chick flicks and searches the movie channels for the week for ones to record (he says he records them for me but i know the real story!).   i return the favour and search for any movies with english people in them.  i’ll scroll through the movies and say “mr. bean’s adventure,  that’s got that kooky british guy in it with the funny eyebrows.  do you want me to record it for you?”  or i’ll say “ooh, look honey. a movie about queen elizabeth.  do you want me to record that?”  i’m sure by the third or fourth movie i yell out, the brit wants to tape my mouth shut but he just laughs and asks if i used up all the memory recording movies on the Hallmark channel.   Man, i record ONE movie on the Hallmark channel and he won’t let me forget it ever.   it was a light-hearted feel-good comedy.  i was sold by the write up.