Coffee, Tea, Cocoa

Coffee, Tea, Cocoa
“How Sir Lancelot Was Shot by a Gentlewoman Hunting” by Arthur Rackham circa 1917

Dear Internet,

Last night I dreamt I was in command of a Viking longship, my braids flying in the wind as we traversed the seas. I had silver hair cuffs to hold my hair back, I wore leather leggings and tunic, my belt was made of metals and precious jewels, and I took lovers in every port. It was a glorious dream.

It is mid-Sunday afternoon and the only leather I have been in contact with is the leather of our couch where I’ve been settled for the last several hours. TheHusband, who is currently driving me crazy with his songs reinterpretations by replacing lines with “Pookie Bear” and interjecting “pug” when neither pookie nor bear fit, is reading The Adventures of Ibn Battuta: A Muslim Traveler of the Fourteenth Century sprawled on the chair opposite. Wednesday, who is aghast she is not allowed up on the couch or the chair, paces the living room like the little old lady she is before heading to one of the many dog beds we have scattered around the house for her particular use. After 20 or so minutes of watching us wearily from her bed, she starts the pacing over again thinking she will eventually wear us down with her silent demands.

[Interlude:  The dog, 30 minutes before she was due for her afternoon constitution, decided to pee in the kitchen and then 10 minutes later, poop in the dining room. She’s now lounging on the couch, a fleece blanket beneath her. You win pug. You win.]

It has been snowing for nearly a week straight, we are on day three of our self-imposed home rule and we’re already snarling at each other. TheHusband and I have not had a good, healthy, screaming drag out fight for months so we took care of that yesterday afternoon. The fight started when I asked how he planned on cooking the beef for today’s beef pot pie and corkscrewed out to something else entirely, as it always wants to do. I’ve never understood these people who claim they never fight with their partner — how boring and uninspiring those people must be! I can’t imagine living in perfect harmony day in, day out — it would be living with a husk. I need the conflict to keep me enthralled.

Fight out of the way, we’re establishing patterns. We wake up sometime between 8A-9A, the dog is walked. Breakfast is consumed, either something individually or as the case of this morning, a shared meal of pancakes and bacon. TheHusband wanders off to do his thing, I wander off to do mine. Lunch is foraged and dinner is planned between 5P-7P, depending on how hungry we get. Yesterday I baked two sets of muffins, sorted out our grains and legumes, a load of laundry was done, kitchen eternally cleaned, and writing and reading was adhered to. While all that housework seemed to go against the idea of “do nothing staycation,” I can attest I did it all in yoga pants, tshirt, and a sports bra.

This morning was not that much different than yesterdays, except instead of muffins I made the crust for tonight’s dinner as it needs to be chilled and pre-baked before it is used. TheHusband, once his husbandly chores for the morning were completed, has been reading (and randomly singing) in the chair. Tomorrow will probably be no different or the day after that.

And we cannot forget the already mentioned, never ending, infernally maddening snow.

TheHusband has challenged me to another round of “how long can you go without taking a shower,” a family tradition in the making. But two days in, my teeth are feeling fuzzy, my yoga pants are getting slick with day to day dirt, flour, and pug hair, and my hair is standing up on its own without product so I am declining. A bath will be taken this evening, no matter what.

x0x0,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe in: 2012