or in this case, I’m doing for me. So the prequel is, I’m on holiday (DH is self-employed so the concept of being on holiday doesn’t seem to quite compute) but instead of packing and trekking we are embarking on our first s.a.h.h. or “stay at home holiday.”
It was, as dawn broke yesterday on my first day off, that I had a thought (cue the theme to “War of the Worlds”). For seven days, every day, it’s going at some point (however briefly) to be about me. Oooh self-centered and egotistical you might think or she must be a doormat by profession – thankfully negative on both counts (in my opinion that is). Its just that don’t you find yourself always doing for others? Which is not necessarily a bad thing I know, but there are just some days ………..
Anyway enough philosophising and meaningless drivel. For me, on day 1, I went shopping (momentous I know but work with me). It was all in aid of this dratted wedding in December and in the norm clothing shopping fills me with as much glee as polishing the silverware. Yet, being out and about on a week day by myself engendered just the tiniest hint of hedonistic self indulgence and to boot I came away with two basic pieces for my Out of Africa sojourn.
An afternoon nap enveloped in gentle sunshine inspired movie night. A filmophile’s feast of Lord of the Rings (all three books) until the wee hours. DH did pop in occasionally – he has a liking for the epic fight scenes.
Super Rugby Saturday broke with a lyrical sunrise – so African in it’s intensity and colour palette. I’m having a very uncharacteristic get up at sparrows week for whatever obscure reason. While DH was chasing little white dimpled balls in his dreams I crept downstairs, vaguely reminiscent of the odious Argus Filch, to argue vociferously with the television through two scintilating games of world cup rugby and madly tweet my conclusions.
For all those naysayers who are thinking hen-pecked husband – fear not, post match trip to the local DIY shop for various steel, wood, nails and bolts bits to monkey proof our two bird feeders. We have a troop of vervets that live in the valley and take immense pleasure in crashing through the garden, like a herd of marula-soaked elephants, tipping up the feeders to gorge on their scattered contents. DH spent the afternoon reinforcing and I supplied the conveyor belt with drinks and snacks. The war continues.
In truth I fear, much like the Maginot Line, the mantra of “doing for me” will be a finite project but opportunity looms large.