Boogienight

Once again I found myself clambering in to a bed warmed by mrhalf while slightly under the influence of our old friends Lady Vodka and Princess Vino. Once again I awoke feeling like a dead person might when they wake up and wonder if it's hell or purgatory they have won access to, and once again I feel the need to bless the simple amazing fact that mr half is sooo damn relaxed about my staying out in a nightclub with two of those creatures he generally refers to as the 'fat slags from the pads' (despite both being slimmer than me). I have no doubt that I'll go playing out with them again but I am under no illusions about them becoming my bestest friends, but it was lovely to spend time with someone who isn't male, Nepalese, or at work with me before returning to the place we call home at some godawful hour of the morning (just before the first train - the level crossing was winking at me through the spare room window while I attempted to remove my dancing shoes).


There are times he is infuriating, irritating, and a down right pain in the arse but the one thing I know I never need worry about is his thinking he needs to worry about what I get up to without him.

Course that leads in my less than hangover free state to wondering if it's because I'm such an ugly fat hound that he thinks noone else would look at me (btw the arse crater in the memory foam is not perceptibly reducing as yet) but then again quite frankly I don't much care because the daft sod has no escape until at the very least January next year when the lease runs out on our home.

And its time for me to take my sore feet and aching legs back to work, where I can caffeinate my hangover until my head is ready to explode.