Barefoot anniversary

Caffeine intake: GALLONS of tea
Glamour rating: Minus 53
No. of years married: 15!


a.m.: Bit of a scuzzy, not yummy, mummy today.

Working from home (ain't technology grand?). Sitting barefoot in front of the screen, tapping away without a thought to who might be judging my clothes, hair, make-up, etc.

Freedom from the tyranny of: Has my hair flopped like a failed souffle or is it sticking up like a deranged Einstein wannabe?/Does blue eyeshadow make me look wanton?/Are my boobs doing the two-cup shuffle as they creep above my bra?
Bliss in blue jeans.

In Earth Mother mode, make bean casserole. Get caught up in Career Woman mode, chained to the keyboard, before noticing a slight 'edge' to smell of cooking beans. Leap up in panic, burn fingers on hot pot, pour out unscorched gloop into other pan, discard black crispy bits and rename dish 'Mandi's Smokey Fasolada'. Yummy! (Fingers crossed that No.1 doesn't notice).

Not sure what to think of today's wedding anniversary. Feel ancient and past-it? Congratulate self & OH for staying power (we've lasted longer than most international treaties, after all)? Weep at demise of carefree days long gone? Hope for flowers before the day ends? Shave underarms and glam up for the evening? Or make another cup of tea?

p.m.:
Alcohol consumed: Half bottle of Merlot (hic!)
Ciggies craved: 17
Smoked: 0 (pat on back)

Another cuppa is best option as it turns out. OH calls to ask what he should bring home for our "special" day. Resist urge to drop heavy hints involving luxury chocs, exotic blooms and a girl's best friend. Tell him not to be silly, and not to bring anything (we are skint, after all).

Listen slack-jawed and in abject ignorance as No.1 recites Ancient Greek homework (and then translates to everyday, comprehensible Modern Greek). Am clearly a gibbering idiot. How did I produce such a prodigy? Remember that 12-year-olds around the country are doing the same thing - the equivalent of Year 7 pupils in the UK being fluent in Chaucer-esque - quite a tall order when most of the population don't know what an apostrophe is for...

[Note to self: Re-read "The Canterbury Tales", and make extra effort to get the Wife of Bath's dirty jokes this time]

OH trundles in holding... work bag and sports section.
No flowers, no chocs, no "Oh darling, you shouldn't have!" surprises. He listened when I said bring nothing (Today he chooses to listen to me?)

To be fair, am still in jeans and scuzzy t-shirt, no face gloop, and yesterday's hair. No special anniversary dinner is waiting on table with elegant candles and classy wine.
Am own worst enemy, sometimes....
...Will make up for it tomorrow with sexy spaghetti.

Off to beddy-byes and the dulcet tones of OH's snores that have been my lullaby for more than 15 years (you thought the bags under my eyes were hereditary?).